


It all Started with a Facial

by Sherlockian_87



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But not always, Cracky, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Smut, Smutty, Some angst, come and join the wild ride that is my brain!, had to throw that in there, not season 4 compliant, quite cracky, she has gotten an idea and run wild with it, this is going to have a lot of chapters, try not to take this story all too seriously, yes there will be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 294,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockian_87/pseuds/Sherlockian_87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly thought that she was going to have a nice quiet night in, but Sherlock has other ideas. Hilarity, smut, and a tiny bit of angst ensue! (more of a description inside.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It all Started with a Facial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/gifts).



> I bring you a brand new story!  
> This one is going to be quite different from my other ones ... basically this is quite cracky.  
> It's nutty and silly and I just have a really strange brain ok?  
> Just take it all with a bit of salt ... and don't take it too seriously ... this is for pure enjoyment!  
> It will be smutty ... let me tell you, it's gonna be smmmuuutttyyy ... so if that's not your thing ... uhm, leave now?  
> I have quite a lot of this written already so I'll try and update it twice a week ...  
> I just keeping coming up with new things to add and change, otherwise I would have started posting this a lot sooner!  
> Anyway ... hope you all enjoy this wild, silly ride ;)  
> (also, the smut doesn't exactly start until chapter three!)

* * *

Molly let out a loud shriek when suddenly the sound of her flat door slamming shut reverberated around her. She stomped out of the bathroom coming face to face with a tall, dark figure in a Belstaff.

“What the hell Sherlock? Save your dramatic entrances for the morgue! I don’t need any complaints from my neighbors. What are you doing here anyway? I haven’t heard from you in days.”  
  
The entire time she spoke he had stood there staring down at her, his mouth slightly opened.  
  
“Why is your face all …” He gestured wildly. “Green?”  
  
“Green? Oh.” She brought her hands up to her cheeks but didn’t touch them. “It’s a face mask.”  
  
“Face mask?” he repeated slowly.  
  
“Yeah, a face mask. It’s avocado oatmeal, hence the colour.”  
  
The crinkle between his eyebrows, directly above his nose, appeared. “Bit early for Halloween don’t you think?”  
  
She gave him a weary look. “Not that kind of mask you dolt. It’s for my skin. It helps clean out my pores.”  
  
“Ahh.” He shrugged off his coat and unwound his scarf, moving to hang up both nearby the very door he had slammed.  
  
“Staying the night then?” She had one hand resting on the wall, watching as he took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair, before he proceeded to slip off his shoes and remove his socks.  
  
“Mmm … if you don’t mind.”  
  
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No. Not at all,” she said, but continued in her head, _“There goes my nice, quiet night in!”_  
  
Suddenly he spun about and faced her. “Is this something you do often?” He gestured to her green skin.  
  
“Uhhh no, not exactly. Meena told me about it. This is only my third time doing it.”  
  
“Hmmm.” He walked towards her, his hands clasped behind his back. “You’ve noticed positive results from using it?” He stopped when he was directly before her, his hands falling back down to his sides.  
  
“Yes, I have.”  
  
“Face mask,” he muttered.  
  
“Shocked you never heard of it, Mr. Ego the size of Baker Street.” The look in her eyes was teasing, but also daring him to dispute her statement.  
  
“I am not a narcissist.” His tone fell a bit flat.  
  
A smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “Didn’t say you were.” She strode around him. “You are a bit vain though,” she muttered this, but he caught it anyway, his own mouth twitching. She stepped back into her bathroom, disappearing from his view; then stepped back out again, a jar in her hand. “Want to give it a try?” She waved the jar back and forth slightly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The face mask, do you want to try it? It’s really rather lovely. Makes your skin feel great, refreshed.” Her eyes dropped to his feet then slowly moved upwards, taking him in completely. “You look as if you could use a bit of refreshing. Been on a case, have you?”  
  
He clasped his hands behind his back once more, his posture now ramrod straight. “Yes. It was a nine, but I solved it.”

“Course you did.” She flourished the jar again. “Well?”  
  
Thirty seconds of silence passed before he said, “All right, fine.” His posture relaxed slightly. She returned to the bathroom and he followed.  
  
“Sit.” She pointed to the toilet. The lid was down. He did as she requested. She placed the jar down on the sink counter and was now stood facing him, with her hands on her hips. “Do you object to me putting pins in your hair?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “What? YES!”  
  
She rolled her eyes.  “Knew it.”  
  
“Why would you need to do that?” he spat out the question, rather appalled by the thought.  
  
She rolled her eyes again. “Because if I don’t the cream will end up all in your curls!”  
  
He leaned back slightly. “Oh.” Five seconds of thought later, he said, “Fine. Do it.” He waved his hand about in a dismissive way, but grimaced slightly when she smiled, barely containing a giggle.  
  
After grabbing a small handful of pins from her cabinet drawer, she set to working on his curls. Her mouth slowly screwed up tighter and tighter. He was surprised that she wasn’t shaking from all of her contained laughter.  
  
“Just let it out Molly, I know I must look ridiculous.”  
  
A snort erupted from her, followed by another one. “Just be grateful that Lestrade isn’t here with his phone.”  
  
Sherlock only let out a sigh in response to this.  
  
“There!” she announced taking a step back from him. “That’s quite a look you’ve got going on.” She snorted once more before bursting out into uncontrolled laughter. “I’m sorry Sherlock! I just can’t take you seriously with you looking like this! And it’s only going to get worse! Oh my God!” She doubled over, clutching at her side.  
  
He glared at her, crossed his arms over his chest, and proceeded to pout. He  refused to stand up and look at himself in the mirror. “Aren’t you going to get on with it?” he nearly shouted, wondering how he had managed to allow himself to get into such a predicament.  
  
She straightened, wiping away a few tears of mirth. “Right. Sorry. I’ll be good now.” She twisted the lid off of the jar and scooped out some of the cream with her fingers. “All right, tilt your head back slightly and look at me.”  
  
He did so, his eyes locking on hers. She may have kept her gaze attached to his if she didn’t need to pay attention to what she was doing. It was strange to have her tower over him like this. It would seem that their roles had somehow been reversed. He flinched slightly as the coolness of the cream met his skin. She spread it lightly, deftly across his forehead. As time progressed, he found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Now and again her gaze would flit back to his before returning to her task at hand. If he took her wrist and felt her pulse, he was certain it would be elevated. When she spread the last bit of cream on his face and stepped back he instantly missed the feel of her fingers. Neither of them spoke a word. She cleaned her hands off at the sink before closing the jar. He cleared his throat and suppressed the urge to scratch his nose.  
  
He had to break the quiet; it had become unbearable. “Aren’t you going to take yours off?”  
  
“Oh no. Mine’s not fully dry yet. You don’t remove it until it’s dry. Uhm … come on, let’s go watch crap telly.” She padded out of the bathroom.  
  
Gone was the laughter, the giggling, the mirth. She seemed on edge now. Had his staring put her off? He couldn’t have exactly helped it; there was no where else for him to look, unless he wanted to give himself eye strain, which he didn’t. Realizing that he hadn’t followed her out he quickly did so, blatantly ignoring the mirror as he switched off the light.  
  
She was already sat on the sofa, curled up, the remote in her hand. He sat down next to her, Toby instantly jumping up and making himself at home on his lap. She was changing the channels at abnormal speed, not exactly giving herself time to even notice what was on. Suddenly Sherlock took the remote from her, switching off the telly.  
  
She stared at him. “What was that for?”  
  
He tossed the remote on the coffee table before replying, “You weren’t paying attention.”  
  
Huffing slightly she leaned her head back and glared at the ceiling.

“Did my staring bother you that much?” he asked her.  
  
She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s not so much the staring as to how you were staring.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes, his brows coming together. “I was staring in a particular way?”  
  
She at last turned her head and their gaze locked. “You were looking at me as if you had never seen me before. It was rather … unsettling.” She grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she looked away from him.  
  
“Ahh,” he said this slowly while Toby purred away on his lap. “Well the truth is I have never seen you before looking quite so … green.” He gestured with his hand towards her face.  
  
“That’s a terrible excuse.”  
  
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”  
  
“Don’t give me excuses. Give me reasons, a reason.”  
  
They stared at each other silently for a few beats. Her expression was defiant, daring.  
  
“Usually when you do look at me,” she said, “it’s to deduce something about me. But you said not a word.”  
  
His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “I thought that my speaking would hinder you.”  
  
“You’re fibbing. I can see it in your eyes. You are fibbing.” She poked him in the arm, at last tearing her angry gaze from him.  
  
“I …” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t speak because I didn’t know what to say. You know how I am Molly; you know that I don’t express myself well when it comes to things like … _this_ .” He motioned to her, then back to himself.  
  
The entire scene could have been considered ridiculous and utterly hilarious, him with his green face, and her with her green face, if it were not for the fact that he was completely confusing her.  
  
“ _This_ ? What do you mean by _this_ ?” She mimicked his gesture. “What is _this_ ? What are _we_ ?”  
  
His gaze fell to the cat still in his lap. He stayed silent.  
  
“Sherlock. I want you as a friend; first and foremost, you _are_ my friend. But one second you’re asking me for help, the next you’re telling me my mouth is too small. You repeatedly show up at my flat at all hours of the night, I’ve stitched you up, I’ve fed you, and now you go and stare at me as if I am the most fascinating and thrilling case you’ve ever had to solve. You can’t keep doing that to me! I can’t shut off like you, and delete things.  
  
”Tell me what you need Sherlock, what you really, truly want. And if you don’t, if you can’t, then I have to leave, because I don’t think I can take it anymore. I love you. I love who you are. I don’t want you to change. But I need some form of clarity, or I think I’ll go mad. Do you love me or not? Do you want me as a friend or something more? You once told me that I was the one that mattered most. Is that still true?”  
  
During her entire speech Sherlock hadn’t once raised his eyes from the tabby cat still sleeping curled up in his lap. Several more minutes passed in silence.  
  
With a slow, sad sigh Molly stood up. “I forgot, you believe that sentiment is a chemical defect. That caring is a disadvantage.” She started to move away from the sofa.  
  
“Where are you going?”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay? Nay?  
> Good? Bad?  
> Should I keep going? 
> 
> \--
> 
> \--
> 
> Don't forget, reviews make me smile! :D


	2. Where are You Going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter Two!  
> There are some interesting developments that take place here!  
> Sherlock makes a shocking revelation and a confession ensues.  
> Where will this take them?  
> To bed?  
> Read to find out! :D

* * *

"Where are you going?"

The sound of his voice brought her to a standstill. She turned back around and faced him. "To wash this stuff off." She motioned to her green face. "Come on, yours is probably dry as well." She held her hand out to him.

After nudging Toby off his lap he stood up and placed his hand in hers. They walked back to the bathroom.

"Have a seat; I'm going to take mine off first," Molly said to him while she grabbed up a towel.

He returned to his spot on the toilet lid. His brain wouldn't shut up, switch off, stop. A multitude of pros and cons were being thrown at him:  _yes, you should tell her how you feel. No, you shouldn't. Remember you are married to your work. Without the work you are nothing. Alone is what protects you._  All of this was going on inside of his head whilst she was stood at the sink wiping the mask from her face with the now wet cloth. Once the last bit of green was gone she turned to face him and the voices died away, ever so slightly. She had been right. She did look refreshed. Her skin almost appeared to be glowing. He found himself needing to swallow.

"Want me to wipe yours off, or do you want to do it?" she asked.

He swallowed again before answering, "You can." Damnit. His voice had cracked. "I am not looking at myself in the mirror."

She let out a soft huff of a laugh. "All right." She grabbed up another towel and held it under the water.

The staring was to be inevitable. Both of them knew this. Both of them were also aware of the fact that they had never been in quite such close proximity to each other. Yes, they had worked side by side many a time, and he had often spent the night at her flat (his bolt hole, he called it) in her bed, but never had they shared in anything quite like this. This was so much more intimate.

After a few minutes Alien Sherlock was gone. There was no sign of the green mask left. Molly dropped the cloth onto the counter but didn't step away from him. After removing the pins from his hair, she fluffed up his curls, before allowing her eyes to lock on his.

"If you can't tell me, then show me," her voice was no more than a whisper as she spoke this, her soft warm breath brushing across his cheek.

Dilated pupils were a sign of attraction were they not? He had told her that, why had told her that? The thousands of voices inside Sherlock's head were still bouncing around, screaming at him.

Ever so slowly he raised his hands. She thought that he was going to check her pulse, but no. They came to rest on her hips. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Their gaze was still locked. He tilted his head to the side, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss to her lips. Upon that first connection the voices in his head grew silent. Ahh, bliss! He needed more of it. He gave a gentle tug on her hips and she stepped closer, moving in between his legs, their mouths meeting again. He watched her eyes flutter closed as she began to return the kiss, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. There was nothing but silence. He slipped one hand to the small of her back, steadying her while their tongues met and danced. One of them moaned, neither was sure who.

Her hands moved upwards to cradle his face, her fingertips brushing over his cheekbones. Somehow she had come to be sitting in his lap. Her warm body pressed up against his. Eventually though, their need to breathe grew impossible to ignore.

"This is so much better than talking!" she panted against him.

He only nodded, amazed by how quiet his mind had become.

"Do you … should we move to somewhere a bit more comfortable?" she asked him.

Where they were sat, and the way they were sat was rather awkward. He only nodded again and allowed her to lead him from the bathroom. Expecting her to go into the bedroom, he was surprised when she returned to the sofa. He gave her a questioning look.

"If this is what you really want, I'm not going to rush you into doing anything," she explained. "We don't need to rush. Look at how long it took for us to get here!"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "Sex doesn't alarm me, Molly."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you're not a virgin?"

He let out an indignant sniff. "In spite of what Mycroft thinks, no."

"Oh." She paused. "We still don't have to."

He hadn't let go of her. "You don't want to?"

Her eyes flashed with fire. "Is that a joke?"

He smiled slightly. "No, it isn't. And I know that you do want to. In fact I'm quite certain that your-"

"Sherlock, shut up."

He raised both his eyebrows. Before either one of them was able to speak again, a noise, somewhat like a growl, interrupted them.

"You haven't eaten recently, have you?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No. I was on a case, remember?"

She got up from the sofa and held out her hand again. "I'll make you some food."

After they walked into the kitchen Molly began to take out ingredients for an omelet.

"Think you can handle making toast?" she asked?

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Of course I can!"

Six slices of (extremely burnt) bread later, Molly and Sherlock sat down at her table.

"There's something wrong with your toaster," he noted.

"Mmm … sure there is."

She watched as he shoveled in the eggs, unable to fathom how he could possibly function without eating or sleeping for days.

"You don't know how to take care of yourself very well, do you?" She brought her hand up, and was running it through his curls. "Would you let me take care of you?"

He took another bite of egg before putting down his fork, chewing and swallowing. "Do you really want to?" He turned his head and was looking at her.

She still had her hands in his curls. "I practically do already. You've been here more often than you've been at Baker Street. Why is that exactly?"

"It's too quiet."

"You mean lonely, with John now being back with Mary?" she asked.

He nodded and returned to his eggs.

"I'm not just a replacement for him?"

The fork dropped from Sherlock's fingers with a clang, there was anger in his eyes. "NO! You're nothing like him. You're not a replacement at all. If anything you're an improvement."

She held back her smile. "An improvement. I like the sound of that."

He turned in his chair so that he was fully facing her, placing his hands on her arms. "Molly, you told me to show you if I couldn't tell you, but now you seem to not want me to do even that! What am I supposed to do to make you realize how important you are to me?"

She only blinked at him, so he continued.

"Molly, we've been friends for seven years, and I've slept in your flat for the past five … well, actually it's been three because of my two years away … you know what I mean!

"Now that I've finally kissed you, I want to do more. I want to do everything. Is that rushing? I don't think so. We've waited long enough."

She leaned back slightly. "Whoa, hold on just a tick. I wouldn't exactly say that we've been friends for seven years, acquaintances yes, friends not so much."

The expression on Sherlock's face was unreadable, she cleared her throat.

"What I mean is that I only felt that our relationship –erm-  _friendship_  blossomed directly before your fall, when you came to me and asked me for my help," she paused, hesitating, unsure of how to go on.

"Is that why you thought that you didn't count?" he asked quietly.

She looked away from him. "Partially, yes." She stole a quick glance and could see that he was blinking rapidly.

"Why did you let me come and stay at your flat all those times?" he asked. "You could have told me no."

This time he stole a glance at her, and the look she gave him was almost answer enough.

"What am I against the hurricane that is The Great Sherlock Holmes? I am nothing but a reed in your wake."

He looked away from her. "Molly …"

She took his hand. "I wanted to help you, it's all I've ever wanted; to be there for you."

He looked down at their joined hands, brushing his thumb over the top of hers. "You have always been there for me. Forgive me, Molly, for all the years that have been wasted."

They sat in silence, their hands still clasped together.

"You're not a reed Molly," his voice broke through the hush. "You are one of the strongest people I know. There aren't many that have been able to withstand me for as long as you have."

"You and your gale force winds."

He chuckled slightly. "You're making me sound as if I have a flatulence problem."

Her laughter filled the kitchen. It was a glorious sound. He needed to hear that more often.

"Please understand me Molly," he continued once her laughter had calmed. "I would have done something about all of this sooner, if I hadn't been so blind. I had closed off so many emotions, I acted as if I were a machine … and it wasn't until …" he trailed off.

"John," she chimed in. "John changed you, he helped you. He humanized you. He made you a better man."

"Yes. He did. I owe him a lot."

"I think we both do."

Sherlock brought his other hand up to her face, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. "I wanted to kiss you, that night before I left to dismantle Moriarty's web, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was terrified I would destroy you by giving you false hope. I had no idea if I would ever return. I couldn't allow myself to do that to you. So I didn't kiss you. And then I came back, and you were …  _engaged_  … and that was when I came to truly admit to the fact that love was more of a disadvantage than an advantage. I forced myself to accept that I had lost you.

"Then there was that day in the lab, when I was high and you slapped me. You're ring was gone. I only said what I did because I thought that I had truly lost you. Why would you want to be with a high functioning sociopath junkie?

"From there on I just made things worse. I was an utter arse with Janine, nearly got myself killed with Magnussen, and then that ridiculous fake Moriarty had to show up and save me from exile. But now things have finally seemed to have calmed down, doubt for long though.

"Molly, I've insulted you, hurt you, I am an absolute arsehole that doesn't deserve you … but what I'm trying to say is … after all that I've done … after all that we've been through together … do you … is there a chance—"

She covered his mouth with her hand, bringing his long-winded diatribe to an end. "Yes."

They stared silently at each other for a few moments.

"I thought you weren't good at that," she said, "expressing yourself." She dropped her hand away.

He gave a slight shrug. "That just sort of happened. Once I started I couldn't stop."

She let out a slow breath. "I don't want you to think that you need to do anything that you are uncomfortable with to prove something to me."

He leaned closer towards her. "I'm not uncomfortable with any of this. If I was, I wouldn't still be here."

"Ahh … duly noted. Are you finished?" She motioned towards his nearly empty plate.

"Yes. But not with you."

His eyes hadn't left hers, and his hands had moved and were now cradling her face. He leaned further forward and kissed her hungrily. Neither spoke for several minutes. He dropped his hands away in order to pull her on to his lap. He could only hope that his body pressed so tightly up against hers was showing proof enough of how much he wanted and needed her.

"Will you allow me to take care of you?" he panted this out to her, his nose pressed up against her cheek. Both of them were breathing heavily.

"Can you do that?" she asked him.

He could feel her smiling against his skin. "Allow me to take you to bed and I'll prove it."

She let out a slightly husky laugh. "Do you really know how to do … all of … that?" There was no way that she could have asked him such a question if she hadn't had her face buried in the crook of his neck.

He tipped his head slightly, just enough so that he could press his lips to her pulse point, feeling the erratic beat of her heart. "I assure you, I do. I already told you that I am not a virgin. And I have participated in the act of watching pornographic material. I know that porn isn't the most reputable way to learn how to make proper love to woman. It was for a case. And I deleted most of it." A shudder ran through his body. "But not all of it. I retained a few vital things."

As if to demonstrate what one of these things was, he slipped his hand upward and cupped her left breast, ever so slightly brushing his thumb over her nipple which had long ago hardened into a stiff peak. He momentarily cursed the fabric barrier, but was quickly distracted by the soft mewl that escaped her throat. He glanced at her, and saw that her lips were slightly parted and her eyes had fallen closed. He brushed his thumb over her nipple again, pleased when a moan escaped her.

"I am quite willing to learn." He pushed down a bit harder. "Do you like that? Do you want me to continue?" He repeated the action. "Or do you want me to stop?" He pulled his thumb away, but still held her breast.

Her eyes flew open and met his. "Don't you dare stop!"

He chuckled, pleased to see that she was at last beginning to relax and accept the fact that they  _both_  wanted this.

"Can I take you to bed Molly?" His voice had deepened. He felt a shiver course through her as his warm breath brushed over the shell of her ear.

"Yes."

He didn't need to be told twice. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her bridal style to her bedroom. She momentarily distracted him with a deep kiss, forcing him to stop in the doorway because he couldn't see where he was going.

"Molly!"

Her only reply was a slight giggle. With a low growl he continued into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before depositing her on the mattress. She let out a noise of disappointment when he stepped back slightly, not joining her on the bed as she expected.

"Shall I undress you, or do you want to undress yourself?" he asked her.

She dipped her chin down so that she could look up at him through her eyelashes. It was positively coquettish.

"Undress me."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He He He!!!! 
> 
> Little Mousy Molly is not so Mousy eh? ;)
> 
> I'll probably post chapter three on friday, since I'm not that cruel :D
> 
> Don't forget, reviews make me smile!!! :D


	3. Undress Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the smut! *cough*  
> Sherlock (of course) does manage a few Not Good moments …  
> But don’t worry, he makes up for them ;)  
> And in the process he reveals something that neither one of them ever expected.

* * *

"Undress me," she told him.

With a smile that could quite easily be called wolfish, he kneeled on the bed with her body in-between his legs, his knees resting on either side of her hips. She was leaning back on her elbows. He grasped at the edges of her t-shirt and tugged it upwards. She sat up further, raising her arms and he pulled off her shirt, tossing it to the floor. He was pleased to discover that she was not wearing a bra.

He had previously caught a glimpse of her breasts some weeks ago, entirely on accident (this is what he told himself, repeatedly). He had spent the night at her flat, and the next morning while she was taking a shower, she had left the bathroom door partially open to let the steam out. He had just returned to her bedroom to retrieve his phone when he walked passed the open door and he saw her stepping out of the shower having not yet grabbed a towel. Her naked body was fully on display to him. She had no knowledge of this. But from that moment on he couldn't stop himself from wondering what it would feel like to have his mouth on her breast, sucking on her nipple. Now he needed to wonder no longer.

"Oh God!" she gasped out as she fell back onto the mattress.

"Mmm … no, I am in no way a deity," his voice was muffled slightly as he said this, having taken almost her entire breast into his mouth.

Speech quickly became a nuisance as he worked his lips hungrily on her; varying from licking, sucking and biting. She became so focused on his mouth on her breasts that she hadn't even noticed him deftly removing her shorts. Revealing to him a pleasing lack of knickers.

When he spread apart her folds with his fingers, already so deliciously wet, she let out a cry. He slowly dipped one, then two fingers into her centre. His mouth was at her navel now. How had he moved down there so quickly? Before she could contemplate anything else, his lips had reached her taut little nub. The moan she let out was practically feral when he lapped at her with his tongue, his fingers moving inside of her.

"Fuck!" she cried out.

Oh, that was something new. Judging by the ache between his thighs, he rather liked it. He continued his ministrations with his tongue and fingers, her hips rolling with his movements. Her hands were tangled in his curls, and when he felt her fingernails pressing into his scalp he knew that she was close.

He lifted up his head and looked up at her, loving how her body was flushed with pure arousal. "Do you want to come Molly? Do you want me to make you come?"

She whimpered slightly, his fingers still working in her. He moved them in a slight come hither motion.

"Look at me," he said to her.

She opened her eyes and peered down at him. Her lips parted as she panted slightly.

"Tell me what you want Molly."

A delightful blush washed over her face. "Make me come, Sherlock. I want you to make me come."

He dropped his mouth back to her clit and gave it a long, drawn out suck, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She threw her head back, crying out as he held his fingers inside of her, feeling her walls clenching around him. He gave her a few more gentle sucks before pulling away from her and slipping his fingers out. He licked them clean, loving the taste of her.

She was panting heavily now. Her breasts rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. He gave each breast a kiss before moving upwards so that his face was hovering over hers. She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

"That was … mmm!" She didn't finish her sentence because she pulled him down to her for a kiss; she could taste herself on his tongue.

When they parted for breath he ran his nose up the length of her neck. "You can undress me … if you like," he murmured into her skin.

She made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, her small fingers moving expertly. When she came to his trousers he helped her with them.

"Do you usually not wear any pants?" She wasn't looking in his eyes, but instead at his pleasing erection. She delicately wrapped her hand around his cock, moving her thumb over the tip.

He let out a grunt. "Mmm, not always." He had no choice but to swat her hand away. "Molly stop, unless you want this to end right now."

She pulled her hand away completely, letting it come to rest on his arm. He laid his forehead on her shoulder, taking in several deep breaths.

"Sherlock?" She nudged him gently with the tip of her nose. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's just all a bit … overwhelming."

She brought her hands up to his curls, massaging his scalp. "We can stop. It's all right."

"NO!" He lifted up his head and looked down at her. "I want to do this. I just needed a moment. That was all."

"Oh."

Before another word could be spoken by either of them he kissed her.

"Condom?" she murmured against his lips.

He shook his head. "You're on birth control. I'm clean, and so are you." He kissed her again. "I want to  _feel_  you." He moved his hips forward ever so slightly, so that just the tip of him brushed up against her wet folds, barely slipping between them. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Do you want me, Molly?" He rolled his hips slightly, rubbing his cock up against her.

"Yes!" she panted out.

He pressed the tip of his erection directly against her clit. "Do you need me?"

"Oh God, yes!"

Her arms were around his shoulders now, pulling him down to her. He kissed her again and he slipped his hand down between their bodies so that he could guide himself to her centre. She let out a loud gasp when he slid into her welcoming wetness.

He froze. "Molly?" he questioned, before quickly pulling himself out of her.

She cried out in disappointment, sitting up slightly. "What are you doing?"

"Did I hurt you?" His eyes were filled with concern, not a sight she was accustomed to seeing.

"No!" She cradled his face in her hands. "I only made that sound because it felt so wonderful to have you in me. Please, I need you back inside of me!" She was pleading with him, terrified that he would now not want to continue. She dropped one of her hands down to his still hard cock. He was slick with her juices. "Please?"

He kissed her and she settled down onto her back, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He surged his hips forward, entering her. They moaned in unison when they were once more connected.

"My Molly, you feel so good!" His voice was husky, deeper.

She let out several mewls as he gave a few shallows thrusts, she was so  _tight_ , before he fully seated himself inside of her. It felt so incredibly amazing. It felt right.

"Fuck!" she groaned.

He gave a hard thrust in reply, lifting one of her legs up over his hip so that her ankle rested on the cheek of his arse. She lifted up her other leg, so that both were wrapped around him. He entered her even further now, his fingers digging into her side as he held her. She whimpered and he surged his hips forward before he came to a standstill, holding himself deep inside of her. He kissed her then, cradling the side of her face with his hand. Her fingernails were digging into his back and she pressed her hips upward to meet his, wanting him to continue his movements. He groaned into her mouth then broke apart the kiss.

"Molly … wait…," he panted against her lips, before resting his forehead against hers once more.

"What is it? Are you all right?" Her eyes were now filled with concern.

He kissed her again. "I'm fine. There's just something I need to say. Something I need to tell you."

She brought her hands up to his face, brushing back some of his curls. "Now?" she questioned.

He knew that this was all a Bit Not Good, to put pause to such an intimate moment, but it needed to be said. And if he didn't say it now, he might not ever be able to bring himself to do it.

"Sherlock?"

He blinked rapidly, realizing that he had allowed his mind to wander off. "Sorry." He kissed her again so that his mind would grow quiet once more. Once it did, he ended the kiss, but left his lips hovering over hers as he looked directly into her eyes.

"Sherlock?" she repeated.

He blinked rapidly again, and she pushed her hips up to meet his in reminder of what they had been doing.

"Molly!" he gasped out. "I love you, God dammit!" He watched as her eyes widened slightly, her mouth dropping open. Realizing that that had come out rather harshly he hurriedly added, "I'm not just saying that because of the endorphins running through my brain, I truly, honestly mean it. I. Love. You."

She was the one blinking now. "Normally people don't say God dammit after confessing their love, Sherlock." She tightened her hold on his shoulders.

He let out a slightly annoyed huff. "Isn't this where most people say that they love the other person back?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes she snuck her hands up to the back of his neck and toyed with the hair at the nape. "It's just … that's a lot to take in," she said.

He rolled his hips against hers. "Is it?"

She held in a moan, before giving the back of his head swat. "Yes! It is! I didn't quite expect you to say that. Ever."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I know. I'm not usually accustomed to displaying my feelings, giving in to my emotions. Dammit woman you've ruined me!"

She laughed softly, bringing her hands forward to cradle his face. "Say it again. Tell me. I don't need to hear it constantly, but I want to hear you say it now, again."

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "I love you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

She smiled, letting her eyes fall closed. "I love you too, God dammit! … but you've always known that, haven't you?"

He nodded against her and their lips met. If he had thought she had been kissing him passionately before, then what was she doing now? He returned the kiss with fervour, pulling his hips back slightly so that he could thrust into her once more.

"I may not last long," he panted out, not stopping his thrusts. "It's been years since I've done this."

She cupped her face in his hands, moving her hips in time with him. "That's all right. I don't think I'm going to either! Oh God!"

He held onto her firmly, his mind only able to focus on the feeling of her warm body surrounding him. Suddenly he felt a tightening in his lower back, his balls beginning to ache.

"Molly!" he gasped out. "I'm close, so close!"

He rocked his hips against her, slowing his thrusts.

"So am I!" she cried. "Don't stop, Sherlock! Please! Don't pull out! Come inside me!"

She arched her back, pressing herself into him as hard as she could. He was thrusting his entire length into her now.

"Come with me Molly!"

He slipped his hand down between their joined bodies in order to rub his thumb across her clit.

"YES!" she screamed.

As their bodies moved together it did not take much longer for either one of them to tumble over into the abyss of orgasm, both of them crying out.

She clung to him, shivering slightly. He buried his face in her neck, all legible thoughts deliciously mute. They lay like this for several moments, riding off the high that they had created with their bodies.

"You're shaking," he noted, struggling to lift up his head in order to look down at her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I don't think I've ever felt anything quite like that before," she said breathlessly.

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, then slipped himself out of her, collapsing down at her side, his head on her shoulder. Several more minutes passed in silence, both of them trying their best to regain some form of cognitive thought.

"Molly?" he sounded exhausted.

She turned her head, brushing her nose against him. "Mmm?"

"I still mean it."

He felt her smile against him before she placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "I know Sherlock, I know."

He tilted his head down slightly so that their lips could meet in what would most definitely be considered a lazy kiss. With a satisfied sigh he laid his head back down on her shoulder.

"Where did you get that face mask?" he asked.

She let out a low chuckle. "At Boots, why?"

"Mmm … nothing. I was just thinking that we may need to go and buy out their entire stock."

She dissolved into laughter. He shifted his body slightly so that he could press a kiss to the side of her neck.

"Leave it to you to have a face mask kink!" she said.

He gave a shrug and lifted himself up (with a bit of effort), so that he was hovering over her.

"Aren't you tired?" She draped her arms over his shoulders.

"Exhausted. I feel as if I could sleep for days!" he said.

"You probably will."

He made a noise of agreement before dropping his mouth down to hers.

"Sherlock … why don't you go to sleep?"

"Want you, too much," he murmured between kisses. "I  _am_  Mr. 'Seven times in Baker Street,' if you recall."

"Sherlock, stop." She gently pushed him away from her. "I know that that article was done by Janine just to get back at you. But all that aside … we don't have to again tonight. I'm not going anywhere. There'll be plenty of time for more of that. You need to sleep."

He huffed slightly, with a tiny bit of pout. "Taking care of me already, are you?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes. If you go to sleep now, I'll make it worth your while to wake up in the morning." She moved her eyebrows suggestively.

With a chuckle he kissed her again. "Fine. You win!" He settled himself back down, his head resting on her shoulder once more. Within moments he was fast asleep.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm … what will the morning bring??? 
> 
> Reviews make me smile!! ;)


	4. Fast Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the morning after …
> 
> What will happen? 
> 
> More smut?
> 
> That is HIGHLY likely ;)

* * *

Within moments he was fast asleep. Molly watched him until her own exhaustion took over and she too fell asleep. She did not wake until the next morning.

Her body ached. She was sore in places she hadn't been sore in quite some time. She liked it. Moaning softly she stretched before rolling over so that she was facing Sherlock. She didn't know if she would ever be able to fully wrap her mind around the fact that she had shagged him! He was still asleep, his face partially covered by the pillow, his curls sticking out at all angles. She resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead, not wanting to disturb him. Instead she ever so slowly slipped out from under the sheet, grabbed her clothes from the floor and padded quietly from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

After going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up a bit, she slipped on her shirt and shorts and went into the kitchen. Her stomach was growling and she was desperate for coffee. Once she got the coffee brewing she made herself a few slices of toast (not burnt). With her cup of steaming coffee she settled down at the table and took a few absent-minded bites of toast. Her thoughts were far-away, focused on the activities of the previous night. She felt a slight shiver course through her body at the thought of all that had happened. If he hadn't been asleep in her bed, right now, she would have thought that she had dreamt it all, that none of it was real. She propped her chin in her hand, took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes.

Suddenly she heard the sound of her bedroom door opening, then the sound of the bathroom door closing. She was surprised to hear him moving about. Thinking that he would probably go back to sleep when was he done, she returned to her coffee, closing her eyes once more. They flew open though when she heard a noise; a great, big thump. She hurried from the kitchen only to find Sherlock sprawled face down across her living room floor, wrapped up in her sheet. She ran over to him just as he was pushing himself up to a seated position, and kneeled down beside him.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, struggling to hold in her laughter.

He was scowling. "I'm perfectly fine. My foot got caught up in the sheet and I tripped. I've never had that happen before."

A giggle escaped her. "That was quite a sight."

He continued to scowl. "Hardly very dignified."

She giggled again. "Are you sure you're alright? Nothing … broken?"

Her eyes trailed downwards, he was still covered by the sheet, the only thing visible was his bare chest.

His hand moved up her arm. "Nothing valuable, only my pride."

Molly let out a loud snort. "It would take a lot more than that to break your pride." She grew silent as his gaze grew more intense. She took in a breath to steady her voice. "I'm surprised you're awake. I thought you'd sleep most of the day away."

He shrugged. "You left the bed."

"I was hungry. Do you want coffee?"

He shook his head, his curls were mussed;  _sex hair_. "I just brushed my teeth."

"Ahh … found your toothbrush then?"

"Mmhmm." He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. "You taste like cinnamon."

"You taste like spearmint."

He kissed her again, his hand still on her arm. Molly was grateful that there was no awkwardness between them. She honestly hadn't known how he would be after all that had happened the night before.  _This_ was a good result.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him breathlessly, once they finally parted for air. Her hand was resting on his chest; she could feel the erratic beating of his heart.

He shook his head, his curls bouncing. "Not for food, no, but for  _you_ , yes!"

She laughed and he slipped his other hand out from under the sheet, pulling her closer to him, and kissing her deeply. She moved her hand downwards, palming his semi-hard erection through the sheet. He groaned into her mouth

"Are you going to make good of that promise you made to me last night?" he asked huskily.

She laughed once more. "How about a shower?"

He was about to pout, but didn't when he noticed the mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Sex, in the shower?"

"Mmm … possibly!"

She tore herself away from his hold and got up from the floor, hurrying away from him, cackling. He pushed the sheet off and quickly followed her. He could already hear the water running. The bathroom was starting to steam when he walked in, closing the door behind him. She had stripped down, he was happy to see her naked again. Before she could move away he grabbed her and pulled her tightly up against him. She let out a slight squeak before he kissed her, their tongues dancing together.

"No regrets then, about last night?" She inwardly cursed herself for having to ask him this.

He peered down at her. "Would I still be here, would I be standing here naked with you, if I did have any regrets?"

She shook her head. "No … I just …"

He sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, knowing that it would take quite some time for him to fully convince her how much he wanted all of this. He tucked his hand under her chin and pressed his mouth to hers gently.

"Come on, let's get under the water," she said to him.

She slid the glass shower door open and stepped inside, he following closely behind. She moved under the stream of water and let out a happy sigh. He slid the shower door closed and stood there, watching her. The water was cascading down her body, wetting her hair, slicking it back, tumbling down over her breasts, her stomach, the apex between her thighs, her legs. He followed her under the water, letting out a happy sigh of his own as the warmth of it seeped into his bones. He was blocking the water from her now, just a slight spray of it hitting her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He smiled down at her. Reaching up she brushed back the hair from his face before standing on her tip toes and pressing her lips to his. He curled his arms around her waist, pulling her back up against him in order to deepen the kiss. He could feel her hand on his chest, slipping down his stomach until it reached his now prominent erection. He groaned into her mouth when she wrapped her hand around his cock. It amazed him how she knew exactly what to do to make it feel good. He pulled away from the kiss, resting his head on her shoulder as she continued to work her hand on him. After giving a slight nip with his teeth to her skin he picked his head back up and nudged her hand away from him. She looked at him questioningly.

"Turn around." His voice was slightly hoarse.

She did as he asked. He gave her a gentle push forward until she was standing directly before the shower door. He pressed his body up against hers, his erection slipping between the cheeks of her bum. She let out a whimper. Her breasts were now pushed up against the cool glass. He nudged her legs apart with his knee before cupping one of her arse cheeks in his hand. He slipped his hand underneath her and began to lightly stroke her wet folds with his fingers. A soft moan escaped her lips as he spread her further apart allowing him to slide his cock into her delicious, wet heat.

She groaned, splaying her hands out on the glass for leverage. He was fully seated in her now, holding himself deep inside of her. Both of his hands were on her hips, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder.

"How does that feel, having me take you from behind like this?" he asked.

"Oh God!" she panted. "Oh God it feels so good!"

He rolled his hips, causing both of them to moan.

"Fuck me Sherlock. Please! Fuck me!"

Pulling his hips away from hers, he slipped himself out until just the tip of him was resting inside of her, causing her to whimper. He gave a hard thrust, her back arching into him as she threw her head back, it landing on his shoulder.

"Oh yes!" she cried.

The sound of the water drowned out the majority of their moans and her wild cries, as he thrust into her again and again. The sensations that their joined bodies were making was almost too much for the pair of them.

"Are you close Molly?" he grunted, releasing one of his hands from her hips to slip it down to her front. His fingers came in contact with her juices. He rolled his fingertips across her clit, over and over.

"Fuck! Yes! I am so fucking close, oh my God!" she moaned.

Within moments her orgasm was crashing over her, almost more intense than the one he had given her the night before. After a few more thrusts he was following her. With shaky legs they slipped down to the shower floor. They moved back slightly, so that they were under the stream of water.

He cradled her in his arms. She turned herself around, wrapping her legs around his waist, her cheek resting on his chest. Both of them were breathing heavily. After a few minutes he reached up and turned the water so that it became slightly warmer.

"Think you can stand?" he asked her.

She nodded, and they both moved to their feet. He steadied her before taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

"Definitely worth waking up for!" he stated.

She giggled before reaching behind him and grabbing her shampoo. "You're going to smell like me now."

She squirted some of the liquid into her hands, working it into a lather before soaping up his curls. He kissed the tip of her nose while she massaged his scalp. He took the shampoo bottle and repeated her actions; washing her hair.

After they both soaped up each other's bodies (he seemed to enjoy rubbing his slippery hands over her breasts and arse) they rinsed off. He turned off the water and they stepped out of the shower. She tossed him a towel. She let out a loud giggle as he worked the towel through his hair, it sticking out in every direction. Once they were both dried he tugged her back towards the bedroom.

"I think I need a nap," he announced.

He pulled her down with him onto the mattress. Their bodies were still warm from the heat of the shower. She let out a contented sigh. He pulled up the duvet, wrapping it around them. Within seconds they had both fallen asleep.

It was dark out when they both woke. Molly groaned into her arm as she rolled onto her stomach. Sherlock kissed her temple, hooking a leg up over hers.

"I'm starved," he murmured into her hair.

"Me too."

"Takeaway?"

"Sounds wonderful," she said. "There's a menu in the kitchen, near the phone."

"Mmm … that requires getting out of bed, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Ughhh."

She laughed. "I'm not moving. You can do it. I know you can."

With a great humph he sat up and slipped out from under the duvet. She popped her eyes open and watched him walk from the room, her gaze fixed on his arse. She was rather shocked that he was actually going to do it. He returned a few minutes later.

"Ordered and on its way," he said to her as he slid back underneath the covers, pressing his body to hers.

"Mmmm."

They lay there silently. No other sound but that of the noise from the street outside.

"We should get dressed." Molly moved to sit up. "Your pyjamas are where they usually are, if you don't want to put your trousers and shirt back on."

He didn't say anything, just simply continued to lay there and watch her move about as she searched for clean clothes. Once she was dressed he realized that he had no choice but to join her in the clothed world.

By the time the takeaway arrived they were both sat on the sofa, with silverware and two glasses of red wine and a glass of water each on the coffee table before them. Molly had returned her sheet, which Sherlock had left on the floor, to her bed.

"I may be partial to Chinese, but I do love Indian food as well," she said as she took a bite of her Aloo Gobi.

Sherlock made a noise of agreement, but didn't say anything.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You've been awfully quiet, and I know it's not because you've been in your Mind Palace."

He took a sip of water. "Do you mind if I don't stay tonight?"

"No. You don't have to if you don't want to. That's fine."

He nodded. "Ok. Good."

She pressed her lips to his cheek. "I know. It's a lot to take in. We can slow down."

He slipped his arm around her. "It's not that. I just really need to sleep, and you are hugely distracting."

She laughed. "I see. That's fine. I understand. Just let me know when you want to see me again. I'm not going to nag you twenty-four/seven. I'll wait for you."

He turned his head so he was looking at her. "Like you always have?"

"Like I always have, and always will."

He smiled and kissed her. "I'll want to see you soon, don't worry."

She laid her head down on his chest. "I know."

"I have a lot to change and add to your room in my Mind Palace."

She picked up her head. "I have a whole room?"

"Most definitely. An entire room that will now have a bed."

A blush covered her cheeks. "Will I be naked upon it?"

"Possibly."

A little while later he left, kissing her deeply before he did. She cleaned up the takeaway and went to wash her sheets. Then she decided to send off a text to Meena. She needed a girl's night out.

Meena's only response was, " _So, is he as good of a shag as you thought he'd be?_ "

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles* I think it's safe to say that I love Meena! ;)
> 
>  And nooooo ... the release of the outtakes video did not inspire a particular part in this chapter. NOT at all! ;)
> 
> Remember, reviews make me smile! :D


	5. Is He as Good of a Shag as You Thought He’d Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho! What is Meena going to have to say?!
> 
> This chapter had me cackling quite a bit as I wrote it.
> 
> There’s no actual smut in this chapter, just smutty flashbacks.

* * *

"So, is he as good of a shag as you thought he'd be? You didn't answer me the first time I asked you," Meena said to Molly.

They were stood outside a pub in the cool night air. Molly found it refreshing, she desperately needed to clear her head. At the sound of Meena's question, memories from the past night and day flooded through her mind.

Molly hid her face in her hands. "How the hell did you even know? All I said in the text was 'want to meet up at the pub?'" She peeked out at Meena through her fingers.

Meena gave her a poignant look. "You never want to meet up like this at such short notice unless it's to discuss your night with some bloke. And seeing as you were so cryptic I automatically assumed it had to either be some random man you met (highly unlikely), or Sherlock Holmes (a slightly less highly unlikely)."

The blush on Molly's face was assurance enough. Meena gave her friend another poignant look before beckoning to her to walk into the pub.

"So,  _tell me_ , was he as good as you always imagined?" Meena asked her as they grabbed a couple of seats. Within moments two pints were before them; Meena was well known here. Molly started to blush again.

_Moans were being ripped from her throat as he thrust into her, filling her up entirely. His hot breath was hitting her cheek as he too let out a moan._

Molly picked up her pint, taking a generous sip."He certainly wasn't disappointing," she mumbled around the rim of the glass.

Meena smirked. "He's not deformed in anyway?"

_She wrapped her hand around his hard, thick cock, stroking it, feeling the weight of him._

Molly gave an undignified snort before shaking her head. "Not at all."

"Did he make you orgasm, or did he just get himself off? And I mean a real, true orgasm," Meena asked.

' _Come with me Molly!' Her walls clenched around his cock, her entire body shuddering. Her mind was blank; the only thing she was certain of was how incredible that felt. Had she seen stars?_

"Yes. More than once," Molly replied.

' _I am so fucking close, oh my God!'_

Meena's smirk grew wider. "Glad to hear it. You've been in need of a good shag. You've been much too stagnant of late, since Tom, and he was ages ago."

Molly grimaced slightly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him," Meena said softly.

Molly dismissed her with her hand. "It's fine. I'll just say this, Sherlock is far more endowed than him." She let out an additional snort before she took another sip of her beer. "Meat Dagger," she muttered.

Meena cackled. "More like Meat Pencil right? Isn't that what you told me?"

The two of them burst into uncontrollable laughter. When their mirth subsided the pair of them had to wipe tears from their eyes.

Meena smiled. "Well I am glad to hear that too. I have to say though, I am rather surprised. I was never one of those who thought Sherlock was gay, I just always considered him to be asexual … so come on, give me some more details! How did it all come to happen?" She grabbed up her own pint and took a rather large gulp.

' _The face mask, do you want to try it out?'_

Molly wrapped both her hands around her pint glass and stared down into its dark depths. She was not about to tell her friend  _how_  it had all come about, that was slightly too personal and intimate; she wanted it just to be known by her and Sherlock and no one else. It was also slightly ridiculous.

' _Did my staring bother you that much?'_

"I don't think either one of us expected it to happen," Molly said. "I don't think he intended for that at all to take place. I don't even know why exactly he showed up at my flat. Not that that's an uncommon occurrence. I told him that we didn't have to have sex right away that we could move slowly, but surprisingly he didn't want that."

' _Will you allow me to take care of you?'_

Meena slammed her palm down onto the table. "MOLLY! You didn't jump him straight away, even with him making it clear that he wasn't objected to it? After all these years of you fantasizing about fucking him?! What the hell is your problem?"

' _Do you want me Molly? Do you need me?_ '

She worried her bottom lip. "I didn't want to rush him into doing anything he didn't want to do. In all honesty it frightened me. As much as I have wanted him, I never thought that it would actually happen. Just like you, I really didn't think that he had the desire to do any of  _that_ , and especially with me. He made it clear though that it was very much so what he wanted. And he definitely knew what he was doing. He told me he wasn't a virgin, and yeah he certainly is not! He knew exactly what to do, where to touch me … it was incredible."

_He was suckling on her nipple, his tongue lapping at the swollen bud while his hand massaged her other breast, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger._

Meena finished her cigarette and downed the rest of her pint. "Well, thank God for that. Is he kinky?"

Molly laughed. "I'm not sure yet. He seemed to like it when I cursed though."

_He thrust his full length into her, hard, in response to her choice of words, his hips smacking against hers._

"Hmmm …"

Molly took a generous gulp of her beer. "Ever had sex in the shower?"

Meena's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe. "Really? Didn't think him capable of that one."

"I never thought much of shower sex," Molly stated. "I tried it once with Tom and it was bloody awful … but oh my God, with Sherlock it was really, really hot! I don't think I'll ever be able to look at my shower the same way again."

' _Turn around.'_

Meena threw back her head and laughed. "How'd you do it?"

Molly's blush deepened "He made face the shower door, and pressed me up against it."

_The hard points of her nipples were rubbing up against the cold glass as he pounded into her, his hips slamming against her arse. The angle he was entering her felt so amazing._

Meena closed her eyes, envisioning it. "Mmmm … wow. So he makes you feel good then?" She opened up her eyes and looked at Molly.

' _How does that feel, having me take you from behind like this?'_

"Yes, oh God yes! And not just that time in the shower, every time, everything that he did it felt like he was worshipping me. I'm sore! I'm actually bloody sore! It was all slightly daunting; I've never had a guy be so thorough with me before. It was wonderful."

_Her legs were wrapped around his waist, his cock entering her again and again, slipping deeper into her, rubbing her tight walls in just the right way._

"Well come on, he's Sherlock Holmes!" Meena exclaimed. "Of course he is going to be thorough!" She paused, motioning to the bartender for another pint. "How is he with oral? You didn't have to show him where your clit is located did you?" she asked cheekily.

_He was dragging his tongue across her swollen nub, shifting from sucking on it with his lips to lapping at it. 'Do you want me to make you come?' His fingers were working inside of her._

The look on Molly's face told all.

"Christ! The man really is good at everything isn't he?" Meena paused again before continuing, "You don't think that he is just treating this as an experiment do you?"

' _I am quite willing to learn.'_

Molly worried her bottom lip. "No. I don't." She hadn't intended to tell her friend this, but decided to anyway. "He … he told me he loved me."

' _I love you, God dammit!'_

Meena's eyes grew massive. "He did that?! And you believed him? You know how he is Molly! He says things all the time that he doesn't mean, just to get you to do what he wants!"

' _I've insulted you, hurt you, I am an absolute arsehole that doesn't deserve you...'_

Molly screwed her mouth up tight before saying, "I know that! I of all people I know that! But that's not how it is this time. I know when he's lying, and he wasn't."

' _I still mean it.'_

Meena grew quiet, tapping her fingertips on the glass of her fresh beer. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. He has you to his full advantage now." She looked at her. "How does that make you feel? Knowing that he loves you? You've been in love with him for years!"

' _I love you too, God dammit! … but you've always known that, haven't you?'_

"It amazed me really," Molly said honestly. "But, it also scares me. I'm terrified that he'll get bored with me. That he'll realize that I'm pathetic and he'll leave me. That he'll decide that he's made a terrible mistake."

Meena's eyes grew fierce. "Don't you dare think for one second that you are pathetic! You're one of the youngest doctors to be working in that morgue, and you are the only woman! You are an incredibly smart person! Sherlock is lucky to have you, although I honestly believe you deserve better. But, we can't control who we fall in love with, I know that to be a massive fact. You're not pathetic Molly. And look at all you've done for him, is there anyone that takes care of him like you do? You saved his life! Twice! Has John done anything for him within the same capacity as you?"

' _You have always been there for me.'_

Molly shook her head. "Not quite. John has done a lot for him though, and Mrs. Hudson."

Meena studied her fingernail for a moment. "So do you think he wants to be in an actual relationship with you, or just be with you for the sex?"

' _My Molly, you feel so good!' He was completely inside of her now, clearly reveling in the feeling of her tight, wet heat surrounding him._

Molly rolled her eyes. "Really Meena? He told me he loved me and now you think he is just wants me for a convenient shag?"

Meena shrugged her shoulders and Molly let out a huff.

"I don't really know if he even is aware of how a relationship actually works," Molly admitted. "I told him I wouldn't pester him, that he can call the shots, let me know when he wants to see me. He went back to his flat tonight because he needed sleep; he told me I was too much of a distraction."

' _I have a lot to change and add to your room in my Mind Palace.'_

"A distraction … hmmm …" Meena grew pensive. "That could be a good thing, or a bad thing."

"Yeah," Molly agreed. "I suppose we'll have to talk about it, but I don't really know how that could possibly go. He's so bad with things like that. I can't even believe he told me that he loved me. That took a lot for him, I know it did."

' _I'm not usually accustomed to displaying my feelings, giving in to my emotions. Dammit woman you've ruined me!'_

Meena gave her a happy smile. "Then he must really mean it. Molly I honestly believe that you may know him better than anyone else. You may even know him better than he knows himself. Sherlock would be a massive idiot to let you down. And if he ever hurts you or breaks your heart, I will feel nothing for him but absolute and undiluted loathing."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meena is a good egg ;)
> 
> Reviews make me smile! :D


	6. Absolute and Undiluted Loathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly get’s a surprise visitor (but is it really all that surprising?)
> 
> The smut continues to ensue (oh shocker!)
> 
> And Sherlock let’s Molly know what he thinks about people finding out about them.

* * *

"…  _if he ever hurts you or breaks your heart, I will feel nothing for him but absolute and undiluted loathing."_

Meena's words were floating around inside of Molly's brain while she leaned back into the cushions of the cab that was taking her home. She had stopped at three beers, but her head was rather fuzzy. After paying the driver she stumbled tiredly up the stairs to her flat, fumbling with her keys. She was glad to know that Meena had her back and that she was being supportive. Meena knew what Sherlock was like, and what she had spoken was true: Molly knew him far better than anyone else. The door slammed shut behind her. She grimaced slightly, struggling to turn on the light.

"Oh bloody hell!" she shrieked, jumping back slightly.

Sherlock was sat on her sofa with Toby on his lap. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I thought you went home to sleep," she said, one hand resting on her chest, trying to calm down her racing heart.

He picked up Toby and placed him down on the floor, before he stood and walked over to her. "Usually as soon as my head hits the pillow I pass out, but not this time," he said. "I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked, I just couldn't get to sleep. And then I figured it out: I missed you. I missed your warmth."

She shook her head. "Sherlock, it's only been a few hours!"

He gave a shrug and reached out to pull her close to him. "You didn't miss me at all?"

She buried her face into his chest and chuckled. "Of course I did."

"You went out to a pub."

She lifted up her head and looked up at him. "Yeah. I met up with Meena."

"Mmm. Did you tell her about us?" he questioned.

A bright red blush washed over her cheeks. "Uhm yes. Was that wrong? Should I not have? She won't tell anyone. She's not a gossip!"

He let out a sigh. "It's fine Molly. Isn't that a typical thing for women to do? Meet up with other women and discuss their love lives?"

"Sort of, yeah." Inside her head she said, " _Did he just say 'love lives?'"_

They both grew silent. She slipped her hands around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. She could hear the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear.

"Meena has an … uhm … a message for you…" she said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she'll hate you for eternity if you ever do anything to hurt me."

He laughed softly. "Just another to add to the list. She needn't worry though. I have no intention of doing so. I've hurt you too much already. I just want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Molly struggled to not let her body grow tense, she was rather shocked by what he had just said. "So does that mean… are we … an ' _us_ '?"

She expected to feel him grow tense beneath her, to back away, close himself off, but he didn't.

"I thought our coital activities were proof enough of that," he stated. " And I did tell you I loved you."

She moved her head so that she could look up at him. "You want to be in a relationship with me? You  _want_  to be with me?"

His hold on her tightened as he stared down at her. "Yes."

"Ok."

With a relieved sigh he leaned forward and kissed her, but only briefly before he pulled away, a concerned expression on his face. "You do want to be with me, don't you?"

"Are your deduction skills slipping?" she asked. "Of course I want to be with you!" She brought her hands up to his face in order to tug him back down to her so that she could kiss him deeply.

He walked them towards her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He lowered her to the bed, never breaking the kiss. They worked each other's clothing off, but once his naked body was hovering over hers she pulled away from him.

"Sherlock, I don't think I can. I'm really sore."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sore too."

"We can just sleep," she said. "I don't work until late tomorrow."

"Mmm …" He stretched himself out beside her, on his side facing her.

She rolled over, coming up with an idea. "Lay on your back."

He raised an eyebrow but did as she requested. Ever so slowly she reached her hand out towards his semi-hard erection.

"How does that feel?" she asked, while she gave a gentle stroke with her finger along the length of his cock.

His body shuddered slightly. "Lighter. Touch me lighter."

She did so, rubbing the pad of her finger over him, barely touching. His eyes dropped closed, his breathing growing heavier. He was fully hard now.

"And this?" She dipped her head down, now gliding her tongue up the length of him.

"Fuck!" he groaned, his head tipping back. He grabbed at the sheets, making fists with his hands.

She smiled and took him fully into her mouth, wrapping her hand around the base of him. She lapped at the tip, squeezing slightly with her fingers. After a few minutes of working him with her lips and her hand, he let out another loud groan and emptied himself into her mouth. She released him, placing kisses on each of his hip bones before moving up to his navel, kissing him there, then up to his chest, his collarbones, his neck. She kissed along his jawline before coming to his mouth, but stopped before she pressed her lips to his. She didn't know if he would want her to kiss him after what she had just done.

He pulled her to him, their lips crashing together; he rolled them over until he was on top of her. "Your turn," he murmured between kisses.

She let out a few breathy sighs as he kissed his way down her body, before coming to her wet centre. He delicately parted her glistening folds with his thumbs, and she cried out when he suckled gently on her clit. He dipped his tongue into her wet core and she whimpered.

"Don't-don't put your fingers in me!" she murmured.

"All right."

He lapped hungrily at her juices, loving the taste of her. She buried her fingers in his hair, giving his curls a tug, letting him know where she wanted him to put his mouth. When his lips wrapped around her clit, slipping out his tongue to drag across it, she cried out her legs twitching slightly. He pulled himself away from her, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. He stretched himself out alongside her once more and she curled into him, he wrapped his arm around her, holding her protectively.

"I think I can sleep now," he told her.

She laughed softly. "Mm…. me too!"

* * *

 

Three days later while Molly was at work, busy with a boring autopsy, she heard her text tone chirp. Annoyed that she couldn't check to see who it was from, she tried her best to focus on the task at hand. Knowing all too well that the higher ups would certainly poo-poo her for whipping out her phone while having a dead man's chest cut open before her. Not to mention the blood that she would surely get all over the screen.

Ten minutes later she was finished, cause of death noted , and her hands were now free of gloves, washed and sanitized. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and saw that there were four messages from Sherlock.

 _Come to Baker Street when you are finished with your shift._  – SH

 _Please._  – SH

 _Molly. Why aren't you answering me?_  – SH

 _Don't you want to come over?_  – SH

She was shocked that he had stopped there. She quickly typed back a reply, letting him know that she had been busy but that she would be glad to come to Baker Street. He had been working on a case the passed couple of days, it taking up all of his time. They hadn't seen each other since his return to her flat when they had taken a "nap." They did manage to make love the following morning, slowly though. In spite of the soreness, it still felt incredibly good. But that was the last time she had seen him, touched him. Her body was practically aching for him. No, it  _was_ aching for him. His reply brought her back to the here and now, pulling her out of her reverie of their time in her bed.

 _I'll be waiting._ – SH

She felt a slight shudder course through her body. Damn him. She glanced at the time and damned that as well. She had four more hours to go. But she was a professional. She knew how to focus. Throwing her shoulders back she pocketed her phone, grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and returned to work.

By the time she was finished she was positively famished so she decided to pick up some food on her way over to Baker Street. Knowing that she would be passing by Angelo's she chose to stop there, instead of going for the usual Chinese or Indian.

Molly wasn't surprised to find the door to 221B unlocked. She knew how Sherlock had the tendency to care little about these things. Rolling her eyes she locked the door behind her, certain that Mrs. Hudson would have a fit. That thought gave her pause. Mrs. Hudson didn't know about them, not yet at least. Molly wondered if she had taken her herbal soothers. She could only hope so, knowing that she and Sherlock had the tendency to be a bit … noisy. She hurried up the stairs, the bag of food hitting in to her shin.

Before she even had a chance to lay her hand upon the door knob it swung open and Sherlock pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind her. She let out a squeak when he shoved her back against the door, his mouth practically devouring her own. She dropped the bag to the floor, moaning into his mouth. She brought her arms up around his shoulders, returning the kiss with fervour.

"And hello to you too," she panted softly when they at last separated for breath.

He smiled at her before nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth.

"Done with the case then?" she asked.

He nodded. "Mmhmm, bit annoyed it didn't bring me to the lab though. I've missed you."

She returned his smile. "I've missed you too. Are you hungry? I stopped at Angelo's."

He peered down at the bag near her feet. "Ahh, thought I smelled something familiar." He stepped back from her, allowing her to move away from the door. "I suppose we should eat first, before taking you to my bed."

"Who is to say we'll make it to the bed?" She gave his prominent bulge a squeeze before quickly scooping up the bag of food and hurrying towards the kitchen.

"Dammit Molly!" he muttered beneath his breath as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Any chance of clean cutlery or plates?" She eyed him suspiciously.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes he gestured towards a cupboard. "Mrs. Hudson keeps a stash in there."

Molly moved towards the cabinet and opened it. "You've never done any experiments on them?" she asked.

He let out a dramatic huff, throwing himself onto one of the chairs at the table. "No. She won't let me."

Molly brought the plates, forks and knives to the table. "When has that ever stopped you?"

He lifted his eyes up to meet hers. "She threatened to tell Mummy if I did."

Molly bit back a smile. "Ahh … I see." She pulled out the food from the bag and placed it on the table. "I got your favourite. Angelo seemed rather pleased to know that you were going to be eating. He also said that he misses you. Have you not popped in to see him recently?"

Sherlock reached for the carton of food before replying, "No. I haven't. Suppose I should now. He'll want to know all about you."

She fell into the chair with a slight thud. "What do you mean?"

"Angelo will be suspicious. John has picked up food from him before, but not you. And the fact that you told him you were bringing it to me, well he is going to quickly jump to conclusions. The man may be a criminal, but he's not entirely stupid."

She leaned back into her chair, ignoring the food in front of her, in spite of the mouth watering smell of it.

"Should I not have said anything to him?" she asked quietly.

Sherlock waved his fork dismissively. "It's all right Molly. He's not a gossip either. Perhaps he and Meena can meet up and compare notes?"

Molly glanced at him but saw that he was smiling, and realized that he was just teasing her with that last comment. She gave his arm a slight shove before finally delving into her own food.

Several minutes passed in silence as they ate, but Molly's mind was whirring. She was certain that Sherlock could hear her thoughts, he always could.

"Just say it Molly."

She jumped slightly, having been so deep in thought. "I uhh … I was just wondering are we going to tell everyone about … about us?" She moved the food around on her plate with her fork, not wanting to look up at him.

"Eventually."

She was surprised by how quickly he gave his answer.

"I rather like it just being us right now," he continued. "I can perfectly imagine what John is going to say."

She snuck a glance at Sherlock, he was grimacing. She worried her bottom lip. "They're going to say that we're idiots, aren't they?"

Sherlock turned and looked at her. "They?"

"Everyone, John, Mary, Lestrade," she explained. "Mrs. Hudson will probably just be shocked."

"Why would they say we are idiots?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Molly set her fork down and turned in her chair towards Sherlock. "Because they all know how I have pined after you for years, and they will automatically assume that you are using me, rather like what you did with Janine."

Sherlock's expression grew thunderous. "Well I'm not," he spat these words out, glaring down at his half-eaten plate of food. "What difference does it make what they think? I never care what anyone thinks. Does it matter to you?" He looked up from his plate, his eyes meeting hers.

"I just want them to be happy for us," she said. "To not judge us. Or worry. But in all honesty, I say complete and utter bollocks to them. They can think whatever the hell they like."

He slipped his hand around her waist, sliding her close to him before he kissed her deeply. "I knew I loved you for a reason."

"A reason? Only one reason?" she quipped.

"All right, there's far more than one. Would you like me to tell you what they all are?" He moved his lips to her neck, nipping at her pulse point. He could feel her heart rate going up.

"Mmm … not right now, perhaps some other time," she replied, slightly breathless.

He let out a low chuckle before pulling her fully onto his lap, her legs coming to straddle his hips.

"Bedroom?" he murmured against her skin.

"No," she gasped out.

He began to unbutton her jumper so that he could place open-mouth kisses on her newly revealed skin. "Right here?" He stopped and peered up at her.

"Why not?" Her hand slipped down and began to unbutton his trousers.

"Did you intentionally wear a skirt today?" He muffled a groan into her shoulder when her hand freed his cock, and began to stroke it.

"Possibly."

He slipped his hand under her skirt, coming straight to her pants, making her gasp. He shoved the fabric aside, dipping first one then two fingers between her soaked folds. She let out a loud mewl and he silenced her with a kiss.

She took a hold of his cock, shifting herself slightly so that she was positioned directly over him. He slipped his fingers out of her and they both moaned into each other's mouths as she dropped herself down onto his length, rocking her hips once he was fully inside of her.

"Oh yes!" She threw her head back, her eyes closed as she began to move herself up and down him.

His hands were resting on her arse cheeks, cupping them, squeezing them while she progressively picked up speed.

"Fuck!" she whimpered, tilting herself back slightly, changing the angle.

He kissed her again and they both began to moan uncontrollably. He slipped one hand forward, brushing his thumb over her clit. That was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a muffled cry, before dropping herself down onto him. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, giving himself leverage so that he could plunge himself up into her. It only took three more thrusts for him to join her.

She dropped her forehead to his chest, both of them breathing heavily. As their breaths gradually became more relaxed he started to press kisses on her cheek, her temple, the tip of her nose. She captured his mouth with hers and kissed him deeply. When they broke apart she smiled at him cheekily.

"I didn't think we'd make it to the bed!" she said.

He nodded. "I like your foresight."

"Shower?"

"Mmm … sure."

She slipped herself off of his lap, pushing down her skirt. He stood up, pushing his trousers down, while he toed off his shoes. He let his trousers fall to the floor before he stepped out of them, and leaned down to remove his socks. He took her hand and tugged her down the hall. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him in his purple shirt (her absolute favourite) with his bum cheeks sticking out beneath it.

A lot of the water ended up being wasted as they spent the majority of their time in the shower, kissing. When they at last did clean themselves up the temperature had become rather cold. Molly's skin was covered in gooseflesh. She shivered slightly as they stepped out into the no longer steamy bathroom. He wrapped a towel around her, pulling her flush up against his body. She hugged him, resting her cheek against his chest while he rubbed her back with the towel. She hummed contentedly, and then let out a laugh when he moved the towel up to her head. She leaned back slightly and grabbed a towel of her own, mimicking his actions with his own head, mussing up his curls. He pouted slightly causing her to laugh more.

They moved to the bedroom and he pulled her down onto the mattress covering them both up with the duvet. He kissed her and she hooked a leg over one of his, stroking his calf with her foot.

"I always knew your bed would be unbelievably comfortable!" she stated matter-of-factly.

"Did you now? It is far more comfortable than your atrocity of a mattress."

"Hey!" She gave his arm a swat. "If you don't like my mattress so much than why I have you spent so many nights on it? And I don't mean recently, I'm referring to all those times you used my flat as a bolt hole."

He dropped his head down to suckle directly over her pulse point. "It was only made tolerable because you were in the bed with me."

"Hmmm … that did take some getting used to. When you first requested me to join you—" She stopped when he lifted his head and looked at her pointedly. "All right, you actually dragged me into the bed with you! But I didn't know what you were doing! What you wanted! What your intentions were. I was a tad bit disappointed when I realized that all you wanted to do was sleep. That wasn't entirely fair, you know."

He gave her a saddened look. "I was … trying."

"Were you? Oh … I had no idea. I just kind of … let myself enjoy it, not thinking that you were … making a move on me …"

He let out a sigh, dropping his head back down, but this time to rest it on her shoulder. She gently pushed him down onto his back, moving her body up over his. She brushed back his messy, still damp curls from his forehead.

"You look tired. You shouldn't deprive yourself of sleep Sherlock, it's not healthy."

He let out another sigh. "Is this what I'm going to have to put up with now? You coddling me?"

She rolled her eyes and poked a finger into his chest. "I am not coddling you. I am stating a fact. Depriving yourself both of food and sleep for so many hours, days even, is not a wise thing to do! Slows you down my arse! I don't believe that for a second! Just give it a try Sherlock, take a thirty-minute nap, eat some protein, it doesn't have to be a full meal. Take care of yourself." She laid herself down on him, resting her cheek once more onto his chest. "If not for you, then do it for me."

He crossed his arms over her back. "Does it really worry you?"

"Yes."

He grew silent, burying his nose in her hair. A minute or so later he let out a sniff. "Fine. I'll give it a try."

She turned her head and placed a kiss into his skin. "Thank you."

They both quickly fell asleep, neither one of them waking until the next morning. When Molly woke she discovered that she was in the bed alone. She thought she heard his voice, but she wasn't entirely certain. Perhaps he had to take a call.

She slipped out from under the covers and grabbed one of his many shirts that were lying about. She pulled it on, buttoning it up as she moved towards the bedroom door. She left the top four buttons open, so that the curve between her breasts was visible. Opening the door she stepped out and padded down the hall.

Her eyes caught sight of John standing by his chair but the words had already begun to form in her mouth, and she couldn't stop them from tumbling out, "Sherlock? Are you coming back to bed?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!
> 
> I just had to end it here! *cackles*
> 
> Reviews make me smile!!! :D


	7. Are You Coming Back to Bed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Oh! John is in for quite a shock isn’t he?
> 
> Because of some of the things he says Molly is filled with self-doubt.
> 
> But Sherlock reveals to her exactly what it is about her that he loves so much.
> 
> In a rather … smutty way … *cough*
> 
> Anatomy lesson anyone? :D
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of drug use.

* * *

"Sherlock? Are you coming back to bed?"

John spun about just as Molly spoke these words. She let out a shriek, grabbing at the shirt she was wearing to cover herself up. Through John's movements Molly was able to see that Sherlock was sat in his chair, wearing one of his dressing gowns. His face was expressionless.

John's mouth was hanging open. He looked to Sherlock, then to her, then back to Sherlock. "Bloody Hell. You two? You two are-?"

"Excellent deduction, John. For once you are observing, not merely seeing."

Molly's face was bright red, she wanted nothing more than to scurry back to the bedroom but she found herself incapable of moving.

John continued to look back and forth from one to the other. "How long? How long have you two been … shagging?" He struggled to get out the word.

"Six days and fourteen hours," Sherlock deadpanned.

John's eyes grew wide. "Really? Christ, I thought it was years."

Molly somehow managed to find her voice. "Years?" she squeaked out.

John glanced at her. "Uhm … yeah. He was always sneaking out, disappearing. And the way you two would look at each other, in the lab, when the other wasn't looking ... Jesus I thought you two had been shagging all along! That's why I thought you were so pissed at him when I brought him to be drug tested!"

"Oh."

The room grew silent, thick with tension.

"Hang on," she said. "You thought I was shagging him even while I was engaged to Tom?" She looked at John with a furious expression.

All too aware of Molly's fury John held up his hands defensively. "No! Not then! I thought you had moved on like you said, clearly not." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

They all grew silent again. Suddenly Sherlock jumped to his feet, moving around John to stand beside Molly.

"Yes, as you can see John we are happily together, now if you don't mind, which I am sure you will, I am taking her back to bed."

A horrified expression came upon John's face while Sherlock took Molly about the waist and moved her down the hall with him. John bolted for the door, rushed through it and hurried down the stairs, not exactly wanting to hear any of the noises they were surely going to be making.

"Jesus! Wait until I tell Mary!" he muttered to himself, practically running out of the building.

Sherlock succeeded in bringing Molly to the bedroom, tipping her back down onto the mattress. Her face was still covered in a blush. She was rather mortified that John had found out about them the way that he did. She was also mortified by what he had said. Did anyone else think that about them? While her mind was awhirl, Sherlock was removing his dressing gown, revealing that he had had no other clothes on underneath it. He then set to work on the buttons of the shirt she had put on, but she brought her hands up to his, clasping her fingers around him, stilling his movements.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"Did you - did you really used to stare at me, when I wasn't looking?" she asked.

He released the button from his fingertips, twisting his wrists so that her hands became encased in his own. "Yes." He brought one of her hands up to his mouth and kissed the palm. "I never once thought that John would notice. I underestimated him."

"Do you think anyone else thought … what he thought?" she said quietly.

Sherlock was kissing his way down her hand, onto her wrist and moving along her arm but stopped when he came to the crease at her elbow. "Perhaps. What of it?"

"No-nothing, I suppose."

He dropped her hand, it falling to the mattress, and moved upwards so that his face was directly above hers. "There is something. Tell me."

She tore her eyes away from his gaze, biting down on her bottom lip. "John may have thought that, because he was always around us, whenever we were together, well at least the majority of the time. Greg- _Lestrade_  may have had some possible thoughts too, but not so much as John. I highly doubt that anyone else remotely ever gave it a consideration, except for when it was revealed that my flat was used as one of your bolt holes."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Molly?"

She let out a slow breath. "I'm not at all the type of woman that anyone would expect you to be with. I'm not ridiculously gorgeous like Irene Adler, nor do I look anything remotely like Janine. I don't ooze sexuality, I'm utterly ordinary. A bit mousy. Boring."

As soon as the words left her mouth she could feel rage rolling off of him in waves. She didn't dare look at him.

"Molly. How could you? How could you possibly think any of that?" He cupped her face in his hand, leaning closer to her. "Look at me. Please."

She slowly brought her eyes up to meet his.

"I was never sexually attracted to Irene," he stated firmly. "It was her mind that attracted me. Nothing more. Did John ever tell you that when we first met her she was entirely naked?"

Molly shook her head.

"That's how I identified her body in the morgue," he continued. "Not because I slept with her. And Janine, why the hell did you bring her up? I wasn't with her because I was attracted to her! You of all people know what I was doing with her! I spent some of the night's at your flat because of her! You don't need to 'ooze', as you put it, sexuality. I rather like that you don't. And you are not ordinary, nor are you mousy, and you are in no way boring. Not at all. You completely and utterly fascinate me. There is so much about you, about your body, that I still have to discover. To learn. I'll never grow bored of you." He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Do you really mean all of that?" she questioned.

"Would I say it, if I didn't?"

She gave him a weary look.

"Ahh right, point taken. But yes, I do, I mean it, every word of it. I love you. I love your body. I love the way your body feels around me. I love the way you make me feel. Sentiment and caring are a great disadvantage; they are both hugely distracting, but they are a good kind of distraction."

She grabbed a hold of him and kissed him deeply. He nimbly unbuttoned the last three buttons and slid his hand beneath the fabric of the shirt, slipping his hand upwards to cup her breast, squeezing it gently.

"Can I show you what it is about your body that I love so much?" he asked.

She gave a wordless nod. He pulled her upwards from the mattress so that he could remove the shirt. He tossed it unceremoniously to the floor then placed his hand on her shoulder and nudged her down onto her back, stretching himself over her.

For a few moments no words were spoken. He cradled her face in his hands, placing kisses on her forehead, tracing her hairline with his lips, the curve of her nose, the dip above her mouth, the shell of her ear. He stopped when he came to her mouth, his lips hovering over hers.

"I love your mouth," he said softly. 'Your lips aren't too small. They are the perfect size, for they mold directly against mine."

As if to demonstrate, he kissed her deeply. He broke apart the kiss and moved his mouth down her neck, not stopping until he reached the base of it, slipping out his tongue to drag it across her clavicle before nipping at it slightly with his teeth. He moved further downwards kissing along her sternum, reaching her breasts. He took one dusty pink nipple in his mouth, suckling it, before moving to the other. They were both now stiff peaks. She let out a soft whimper.

"I love your breasts," he said. "There is no lack to them whatsoever. They are adequately sized for you, and they also fit perfectly into my hands."

He cupped them both, the hard points of her nipples resting against his palms. He released them, replacing his hands with his mouth. He traced the areola of each breast with his tongue, before moving to open-mouth kiss the milky white undersides, nuzzling her nipples with the tip of his nose. He continued downwards, leaving a trail of wet kisses across her stomach, nipping at a beauty mark with his teeth, circling her navel with his tongue.

"I love your cellulite." He slid his tongue over a strand of it on her hip. "All women have it. Most men too. It's a sign of living and growing. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

He moved his hands over her hips. "I love your curves as well. You shouldn't hide them so much with your baggy clothing. Although, perhaps you should continue to do so. No need to have any other man know what you have hiding underneath."

She let out a giggle, which quickly turned into a moan, when he nuzzled the curls between the apex of her legs with his nose.

"Your Mons Pubis is quite exceptional," he murmured, "but I must say I rather like your clitoris a bit more."

He lifted both of her legs letting them come to rest on his shoulders before he slipped his tongue ever so slightly between her folds, just barely touching her clit. Her legs shuddered slightly. He spread her apart with his thumbs.

"Labia minora." He dragged his tongue over it. "Labia majora."

She was moaning uncontrollably now, her fingers buried in his hair, her nails digging slightly into his scalp as he lapped at her.

"Your vagina is quite pleasing as well." He spread her further apart with his fingers and dipped his tongue into her. "And your taste, I love how you taste. And you're always so tight and wet for me." He slipped his tongue out of her and brought it back up to her clit. "The noises you make when I touch you here, I love them too." He enveloped the nub with his mouth and gave a hard suck.

She let out a feral cry, throwing her head back. He circled her clit with his tongue, before giving it a slight flick. Her legs were trembling around him now, her orgasm washing over her. He lapped hungrily at her juices, and once he was finished, instead of moving back upwards he slipped further down, pressing a kiss to the curve of her arse cheeks.

"Gluteus Maximus," he murmured, slipping his hands underneath to give her bum a tight squeeze. "So soft, so round, so supple." He nipped lightly at her skin with his teeth before placing a kiss on one inner thigh, then the other. He lifted up one of her legs, sitting up slightly so that he could press his mouth to the spot behind her knee.

"Sherlock…" she moaned.

He stopped what he was doing and peered down at her. "Hmmm?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Are you – are you quite finished?" she whispered, raising her head to look at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "No _p_ e." He popped the 'p' causing her to roll her eyes and drop her head back down to the pillow; she was panting slightly. "Why?" he asked.

She took a few deep breaths. "I need you, I want you inside of me."

"Hmmm…" He turned his head, dragging his nose along the inside of her leg which he was still holding up. His cock twitched. She was spread open for him, beckoning him, begging to be filled.

"Please!" she whimpered, hating it when he did this to her, and yet also loving it.

He smiled against her skin. "I can always finish later." He gave the back of her knee another kiss before moving himself forward, still holding onto her leg, "Should I take you just like this?" He bucked his hips slightly, so that the head of his cock teased her at her wet opening.

"Mmmm!" was the only reply she gave him.

Taking that as a yes he planted his knees more firmly, holding her leg against his chest, her ankle up by his head. He took his cock in his hand and positioned himself directly at her opening, sliding himself into her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Her mouth formed a silent 'o' as he filled her. He cupped his other hand under her bum, lifting her up slightly off the bed. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, her ankle sitting directly atop his arse cheek. He rolled his hips, a low groan escaping his throat. He quickly settled into a steady rhythm of methodic thrusts, and watched in fascination as her breasts bounced with his movements.

Neither one of them were going to last long. He hadn't realized how hard he had become while lavishing her body with his mouth and tongue. He could sense the all-too familiar build up, and he could feel her beginning to tighten around him. With one final surge of his hips they came together, both crying out.

He gently eased her leg back down to the bed before stretching himself out beside her and collapsing on the pillow. After a moment of catching his breath, he cradled the back of her head with his hand and kissed her.

"Never doubt my love for you," he murmured against her lips. "Never doubt."

She shook her head slightly, stroking his cheek with her fingers. "I won't."

They kissed quietly for a time, before settling down against the pillows. Sherlock dozed sporadically, but Molly stayed awake. She watched the sunlight dance and move across the walls, while listening to his steady breathing. When he shifted slightly, his breathing pattern changed.

"Sherlock?" she spoke softly.

"Mmm …" He turned his head and nuzzled her hair with his nose.

"Why do you like sex?"

He let out a soft huff. "What?"

She picked up her head, pushing herself up so that she was leaning on her arm, his eyes met hers.

"Sex, why do you like it? Knowing you, how you think, the way you view things, everything is so clinical, scientific. I always kind of thought that you would think of sex as being only useful to create life, not to be used for pleasure. 'The body is only transport.'" She tried her best to imitate him, as she said this, her hand on his chest, moving up and over his pectoral muscles. "I never expected you to enjoy it, as you so clearly do."

He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. "I used to think of it like that. I never got much pleasure from it. That was back in my uni days, I sort of looked at it as an experiment. Got me chucked out of several beds, that did."

Molly held back a laugh.

"But with you it's entirely different," he continued. "It is still an experiment, but one that I never want to stop working on. I enjoy discovering the noises you make, the way our bodies move together. I enjoy it immensely, every second of it." He dropped his gaze from hers. "Do you know why I turned to drugs? Did Mycroft ever tell you?"

"No," she said softly. "He's never spoken of it with me. Even after your relapse, he never said a word."

Sherlock laced their fingers together before continuing. "My mind is constantly going, it never stops. It is always calculating, taking in new information, storing it, analyzing it. For the most part I love it, I love that my brain has the ability to do this, that I can see things others don't. But it is also extremely exhausting. The voices in my head never grow quiet. That's why I push myself on cases, why I don't eat or sleep, so that once I am finished, I can collapse; delve into a deep sleep where there is no more noise.

"When I first discovered drugs it was cannabis but that only dulled my mind slightly, made the voices background noise. It wasn't enough. I tried cocaine next, and that was horrible. It only made everything more intense. And then I discovered heroin. That was complete and utter bliss. Everything died away. All that was left was silence. It was wonderful. But it was also extremely dangerous. It nearly killed me. If it hadn't been for Mycroft, it would have. That's why he keeps such a close eye on me." Sherlock stopped talking, taking a few steadying breaths before raising his eyes to look at her. "When I'm with you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, there is no more noise. You silence all of the voices in my head. When our bodies are connected, I only feel and hear you."

Molly pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He clung to her, holding her tightly up against him, returning the kiss with passion.

They spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between dozing and ravishing each others bodies. Mrs. Hudson popped into the flat with tea during one of these ravishing sessions, and Molly had to clamp her hand over Sherlock's mouth when he was about to yell at Mrs. Hudson to go away. Molly started to giggle when he glared at her. She bit down on her bottom lip to muffle a moan when he began to continue to thrust into her, not exactly giving a damn if Mrs. Hudson heard them. He was quite certain she already had. As soon as Molly was certain that Mrs. Hudson had returned downstairs she cried out, dropping her hand away from Sherlock's mouth to clutch at the bed sheet.

By the time they did surface from the bedroom it was late evening. After they had eaten the leftover food from Angelo's, Molly went to take a shower with distinct instructions for Sherlock not to join her. She left him pouting in his chair.

After she surfaced from the steaming bathroom, toweling her hair dry, she began to search for her clothes which had been strewn about the flat. She quickly found her shirt and jumper, then her skirt and bra, but nowhere in sight were her pants.

"Sherlock, where are my knickers? Have you seen them?" she asked.

He was sat on the sofa, once more wrapped up in a dressing gown, tapping away at his laptop. He gave a shrug in reply.

"Where the hell could they be?" she wondered.

He turned his head away from his laptop and looked at her. "Why not just go knicker-less?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm ... what could he be up to? *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> Reviews are the best thing ever!! :D


	8. Go Knicker-less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is such a dirty man!
> 
> What does he have up his sleeve?!
> 
> Is it something a Bit Not Good?

* * *

"Why not just go knicker-less?" Sherlock asked.

Molly blinked at him. His expression was innocent enough, but she knew him too well. She was certain there was something going on between those blue-green eyes of his. He merely blinked back at her. With a loud huff she threw her hands up into the air and stomped back towards the bedroom. Sherlock smiled triumphantly.

She returned a few minutes later fully dressed sans-knickers. She was pulling on her shoes, hopping from one foot to the other, when she said, "I'm working the graveyard shift so I won't be done until morning. Do you want me to come back here, or go back to mine?"

Sherlock was once more looking at his laptop. "Probably best for you to go back to yours, you'll be exhausted I'm sure."

"Mmm, suppose you're right." She walked over to him, straddling his lap. "See you later then?"

He leaned back, his hands curling around her waist before slipping down to cup her arse. "Yes. I'll text you."

They kissed, but when it began to grow heated Molly pushed herself away from him.

"You're going to make me late!" she exclaimed getting up off of his lap, causing him to pout. She pressed another quick kiss to his lips then hurried from his grasp when he tried to reach out and grab her. She let out a cackle and picked up her bag, before hurrying from the flat.

Sherlock grumbled to himself before standing up and walking to the window. He pushed the curtain away and peered down, watching as Molly stepped out into the cool air, taking a deep breath before hailing a cab. Suddenly she looked up and waved at him. He smiled and waved back. She really did know him well.

Several hours later Molly was elbow deep in paperwork; dismal, dismal paperwork. Working such a late night shift usually meant that there weren't many autopsies, sometimes there would be one or two, but mostly it was paperwork. For whatever reason Bart's had refused to step up their technology and move all of their files into an electronic system; they preferred it to be in paper form. Thus meaning that Molly's hand had already begun to cramp.

With a loud yawn she dropped the pen and pushed her chair back. It was time for a coffee break. She rubbed at her eyes, yawning again as she made her way down the hall towards the canteen. Once she had a cup of coffee in hand she made her way back to her office. As she approached she thought to herself that she could have sworn she had left the light on. Flipping the switch she let out a loud shriek, happy that she was able to stop herself from making a jump, for if she had she surely would have been doused in coffee.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed loudly.

There he sat, in her chair, with his feet propped up on her desk, smiling pleasantly at her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He shrugged, dropping his feet down to the floor. "I was bored! My inbox was full to bursting of trivial cases that I was able to solve through email, and Lestrade had nothing for me, so I came here."

She stepped further into her office and closed the door behind her, setting her coffee down on the desk. "I already told you that you can't do any experiments on body parts in the lab. There's nothing here for you."

He stood and walked around the desk until he was facing her. "Oh, that's where you are wrong. You're here." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her to him, allowing her to feel the bulge that was forming in his trousers.

Her eyes widened. "Sherlock no! Not now! We can't! What if someone hears us?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "There's no one here. Security won't be making their rounds for another hour. No one will hear us, but the dead."

She shook her head. "You do realize that's rather morbid, right?"

He pouted. "I thought you liked morbid!"

With a sigh she lifted her arms up until they came to rest around his shoulders. "Is this why you wanted me to go without my knickers?"

He smirked. "Possibly."

He dropped his mouth down to hers and they kissed. He nudged her backwards until she bumped into the wall, he hitched up her skirt, snaking his fingers over her folds.

"So wet already?" he questioned.

Her hands were working furiously to unbutton and unzip his trousers, pushing them down over his arse. His cock fell out into her hand and she gave it few pumps. He groaned and he dropped his head to her shoulder.

Cupping her bum in his hands he lifted her up slightly. "Put your legs around me," he instructed.

She did as he asked and it brought their bodies closer, his cock nudging up against her. She placed one hand onto his chest, steadying herself, and with her other hand, still wrapped around his cock, she guided him into her. They moaned in unison, their mouths meeting when he became fully sheathed by her.

Their rhythm wasn't slow, but fast, needy. His hips smacked against hers with every thrust, his pelvic bone pressing into hers. He mouthed at her neck, her head thrown back as he delved deeply into her again and again. He kissed her when her orgasm washed over her. He gave a final roll of his hips and came inside of her, moaning into her mouth.

They parted, panting heavily. She slipped her legs down, her feet hitting the floor with a thud. He pulled himself out of her and she grabbed a nearby box of tissues so that they could clean themselves up.

"Why does sex have to be quite so messy?" he grumbled.

Molly giggled and handed Sherlock the tissues. Once they were clean and decent she went and sat back down in her chair, grabbing up the coffee that she had entirely forgotten about, pleased to discover that it was still rather hot.

"Do you think your appetite will ever be sated?" she asked him.

He sat himself down on the edge of the desk. "No." He crossed his arms. "And neither will yours."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh. I'm glad to hear it." She gave him a cheeky smile. "Are you going to stay here all night and watch me fill out paperwork?"

"Possibly."

She rolled her eyes. "Wonderful."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. But you will probably be bored."

He gave a shrug. "I have my phone." And with that said he whipped out his mobile and proceeded to occupy himself.

The rest of Molly's shift passed in comfortable silence. A couple of times she asked Sherlock for his input, remembering that he had been in the morgue during a few of the autopsies that she was going over, but other than that they kept themselves separately occupied.

By the time her shift came to an end she had nearly finished all of the paperwork (after consuming a few more cups of coffee) and was now ready to collapse into her bed. She rather hoped that Sherlock wasn't ready for another round.

"I'm not going to go back to Baker Street with you," she told him, shrugging on her coat while they began to make their way out of the hospital. "I need to feed Toby, and put on some actual clean clothes and get some real sleep. After I shower that is."

Sherlock nodded. "I figured as much. Can I- do you want me to come back with you?"

"Do you want to? No shagging though!" Molly was rather pleased when she saw an actual blush come to Sherlock's cheeks.

"Do you have to say that out loud?" he hissed.

She giggled. "Sorry! But I mean it!"

He hailed a cab once they were outside. "I'll come with you. I could use some more sleep."

The ride to her flat was a silent one. Molly had to focus on not dozing off. Normally she didn't mind working the graveyard shift, but she also wasn't used to having constant sex. Not that she was complaining, she most definitely was not complaining. She shot a sideways glance towards Sherlock. He was staring out the window, appearing to be deep in thought. She couldn't believe that only a few days ago she had been trying her hardest to accept the fact that she would never be happy with anyone because she knew that no man would ever be able to live up to the expectations of him. And here she was sleeping with him! Had the world tilted on its axis?

Sherlock paying the driver brought her back to the present. The silence continued as they walked up the stairs to her flat. Toby let out a happy meow, rubbing his body between both their legs once they walked inside. They took off their coats and scarves and hung them up.

"I'm going to go feed Toby," Molly said, walking towards the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable, change, do whatever you want."

After giving Toby his food, and sneaking in a few handfuls of crisps and a couple of glasses of water she made her way towards the bedroom, noting that Sherlock was nowhere in sight. The bedroom was empty too.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"In here!" his voice drifted out from the dark bathroom.

She tugged off her jumper as she stepped in, but stopped when she saw that the room wasn't entirely dark; it was covered with lit candles. Sherlock was sat on the edge of the filled bath, entirely naked. She gave him a pointed look.

"Have you been reading women's magazines?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Perhaps."

Shaking her head she removed her shirt and kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks, before unzipping her skirt. It pooled down at her feet. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it join the skirt on the floor. She walked towards him, stepping in between his legs, placing her arms over his shoulders. He brought his hands up to rest on her waist.

"This is very nice of you. Thank you." She brought her lips to his and they shared a slow, sweet kiss.

"Get in the water Molly, before it grows cold."

He held her hand while she stepped in. She let out a contented sigh as she sank down into the warm water, it enveloping her body. He followed her in, easing himself down in front of her. She tucked her arms about his middle and he leaned his back into her. In spite of the warmth of the water, her nipples stiffened and were now pressing into his skin. He found the sensation to be rather delightful.

"Comfortable?" he asked her.

She let out a satisfied hum. "Yes." She splayed her hands out over his stomach, her thighs resting on either side of his hips. She began to pepper his shoulder and neck with kisses. He tipped his head back, giving her more access. She brushed her nose against his jawline.

"Why are you so beautiful?" she murmured, suckling at a freckle.

"I'm beautiful?" he questioned. He could feel her faint smile.

"Yes. To me you are," she said. "You are practically an Adonis."

He let out a loud snort of derision. "If I'm an Adonis, you're Aphrodite."

She chuckled, moving her mouth down to nip at where his neck met shoulder. "Hmm … goddess of love?"

"And beauty," he added, turning his head slightly so that their eyes could meet.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked.

He let out a sigh before saying. "Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models …" He quickly continued when she raised her eyebrows, "Your form is pleasing to me."

She let out another chuckle. "Alright, I'll accept that."

They shared a kiss before he settled his head back against her shoulder. Neither one of them moved, nor spoke, staying in the water until it grew cold. After which they quickly toweled off, blew out the candles and retired to bed.

"I should probably eat something but I am much too exhausted to care at this point," Molly stated, she curling up under her sheet and duvet.

Sherlock placed a kiss on her forehead before tucking himself around her. "Eating can wait. Sleep now."

"You're not very articulate when you're drowsy," she noted.

"Mmmm."

When Molly awoke the next morning, well it was more-so afternoon; she discovered the bed to be empty. Not entirely surprised by this she grabbed a nearby t-shirt and slipped it on.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

When he didn't answer she padded out into the main part of the flat. He was nowhere in sight. She quickly spotted that his coat was gone from the hook, and felt slightly disappointed that he hadn't even left her a note. Suddenly the sound of her text tone chirping cut through the silence of the flat. She quickly retrieved her phone from her bag, having completely forgotten to plug it in the night before. There were three texts from Sherlock and her battery was nearly drained. She hurried into the kitchen so she could plug it in to charge.

 _I didn't want to leave you, but Lestrade called me in for a case._  – SH

 _Do you know that you snore while you sleep?_  – SH

 _Don't be embarrassed. It's a perfectly normal body function_. – SH

She rolled her eyes while she read through his texts, and waited to send a reply, wanting to get some coffee in her body first. She absent-mindedly made a couple of slices of toast, checking her fridge to see if she had any more eggs. Once she had the steaming brew before her, and had consumed a few sips, she unlocked her phone and began to type.

 _You snore too, you dolt._  – Mx

 _I do not_. – SH

 _Yes. You do._  – Mx

 _Don't be embarrassed. It's a perfectly normal body function._  – Mx

 _That's not funny._  – SH

She was positive that he was pouting at this very moment. The toast popped up and she quickly spread some butter and strawberry jam onto it. She settled back down at the table.

 _I'm only repeating what a genius told me._  – Mx

 _What does the x by the M represent?_ – SH

"Smooth Sherlock, very smooth," she mumbled around her bite of toast. She put down the slice of bread and wiped her fingers before sending off a reply.

 _It means a kiss_. – Mx

 _Ahh._  – SH

 _XXX_  – SH

She let out a snort, practically choking on her coffee.

 _The same to you._  – Mx

Several minutes passed without a reply from him. She finished her toast and coffee, taking note of the fact that she desperately needed to go food shopping. Her text tone chirped just as she was staring at her empty cabinets.

 _Case is a possible homicide. Might take a few days._  – SH

 _Sorry._  – SH

 _I'll text you when I'm finished._  – SH

 _Go get 'em!_  – Mx

Sherlock grew silent then. Molly quickly pulled on some more clothes, wanting to get the food shopping done and over with as soon as possible so that she could return home and relax. She wasn't entirely disappointed by the fact that Sherlock had a case to occupy himself with. There were several more nights ahead of her working the graveyard shift, and she didn't exactly need him to show up and repeat his performance from last night. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it; she just didn't need for him to get it into his head that it could become a common occurrence. She would like to keep her job.

* * *

Exactly four days later Molly received a text from Sherlock that the case had been solved, and that he wanted her to come to Baker Street. It was mid-day Saturday, and it just so happened to be her day off. She quickly showered and made her way over. She had missed him, just like the last time he had been working on a case she found that her body was aching for him. Upon arriving at Baker Street she rushed up the stairs and into his open arms.

Clearly he had missed her too. She just managed to shut the door behind her when he pulled her down to the floor and made quick removal of her clothing. In spite of his rush to get her naked, his movements grew slow and methodic, drawing out each and every thrust. A lot of their previous lovemaking had been rather fast and desperate. This was leisurely and loving. She whimpered and moaned beneath him; enjoying how he filled her completely. It was a slow build towards orgasm, and he dragged it out even further by refusing to touch her clit with his fingers until she begged him to. She rocked her hips up to meet his, crying out as she came. He let out a muffled groan into her shoulder, his own hips stuttering with the force of his orgasm.

"Sofa?" he suggested, after they had caught their breath.

She gave a silent nod, the hardness of the floor getting to her back.

He helped her to her feet, then made a quick removal of the rest of his clothing; having only managed to undo his trousers and push them half-way down his legs before being overcome and too desperate to have her tightness around him. They both walked slightly unsteadily towards the sofa.

They collapsed down onto the leather. He grabbed a nearby blanket and pulled it over them. She snuggled under Sherlock's chin, letting out a contented sigh. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her. Within minutes they both feel asleep, and slept into the evening.

"Hoo hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called out as she walked up the stairs, carrying a tray of tea and some of Sherlock's favorite biscuits; she knew how the man could get while he was on a case. She walked into the flat, paying no mind to his clothes strewn about, she was used to that. She carried the tray over to the coffee table and set it down.

"OH!" A loud gasp escaped her, her hand flying to her cheek, as she took in the sight before her. Molly and Sherlock were curled up together on the sofa, still fast asleep. Thank goodness they were covered by a blanket, for it was quite obvious they were both naked. She  _had_  heard the noises, those noises that had reminded her of her time with her husband, but she had never once thought that it was …

"What will John say?" she muttered softly to herself before she hurried out of the flat to get another cup.

She quickly returned with the tea cup, setting it down quietly on the tray beside the other one. She gave another look at the sleeping couple then made her way back down stairs. "Wonders will never cease to amaze me!" she declared.

Molly was the first to stir. She hummed softly into the curve of Sherlock's neck, stretching herself up against him. His hand slipped over the curve of her back, his eyes opening slowly.

"Ahh … I see that Mrs. Hudson is now fully aware," he noted.

Molly turned her head, spying the tea tray on the coffee table. "Oh. Does that leave anyone else?"

Sherlock was momentarily distracted by the sensation of Molly's breasts brushing up against him. "Mmmfff … Lestrade."

She sat up, letting the blanket fall and proceeded to pour them both a cup of tea "Does Mrs. Hudson usually bring you tea in the evening?"

"Mmm … not always. She usually likes to after I've been working on a case. Don't know why exactly."

Molly took a sip before answering, "She likes to take care of you."

"Not my housekeeper," he muttered beneath his breath.

"No. She isn't, but she does do a lot for you. Kind of like a second mum?"

"Mmm." He took the offered tea cup and biscuit.

* * *

A week later Molly was once more at Baker Street; she had been staying the night for the passed few days because his flat was closer to Bart's then her own. Yes, that was what she kept telling herself.

It was early morning and she had just settled down at the kitchen table (devoid of experiments) with a cup of coffee. Sherlock was still asleep. She had awoken around one-thirty a.m. only to discover that he was no longer in bed with her. She stumbled out of the bedroom and saw that he was sat on the sofa updating his blog and writing snide remarks on John's. Molly slammed shut Sherlock's laptop and dragged him back to bed, telling him that he was being ridiculous and that he needed to sleep. As soon as he had settled back under the covers with her he realized that what she said was true. He pulled her close up against him and proceeded to fall back to sleep.

Molly finished her coffee and went to go take a shower knowing that Sherlock would probably sleep for several more hours. When she walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her, she was surprised to find him sat up in bed, tapping away on his mobile.

"You're awake!" she said.

"Excellent deduction, Molly."

She glared at him, causing him to glance up from his phone.

"Mo-or-ning?" he spoke slowly, cautiously.

She rolled her eyes and began to search for clean clothes. "I only said that because I thought you'd be sleeping for much longer. I'm rather surprised."

"Ahh." He dropped his gaze back down to his phone, knowing that if he continued to watch her he would only want to drag her back into bed with him. "I have an experiment I want to start working on. Been putting it off. Foolishly."

She dropped the towel to the floor and was stepping into a pair of knickers. "Oh! Will it bring you to the lab?" she asked excitedly.

"Mmm … nope. I can do it here."

"Oh." Her voice fell a bit flat.

She slipped on her bra and hooked it before gathering up the rest of her clothes to finish dressing in the bathroom. Sherlock lifted his eyes, watching her. When she returned to the bedroom she was fully dressed, wearing the tiniest bit of makeup and had her hair pulled back in her signature ponytail.

"Are you going to be starting your menstrual cycle soon?" he asked.

Her eyes flashed a warning. "No. I'm not due for a whole other week."

He hummed and returned to his phone.

"Keeping track of my schedule?" she questioned. "Trying to pinpoint when I will be in a strop?"

"Possibly." He avoided looking up, fearful that he had perhaps let himself fall into a major Not Good moment. John would surely berate him for this.

Molly only gave him a smirk, even though he didn't see it. "Trust me Sherlock, you'll know when the time comes. You'll prefer not to be around me when it does. Hell, I'd prefer not to be around me."

Sherlock slowly raised his eyes to hers. "That bad?" he questioned.

"Yeah … I become really moody. I'm positive that almost everyone at Bart's knows my schedule. 'Uh oh, here comes the bitch from the morgue! Better run it's her time of the month!'" she said.

He sucked in his bottom lip.

"Go ahead and laugh Sherlock, but it's the truth! It's as if I gain an entirely new personality. Didn't you ever notice?"

"Ye-es," he said slowly. " You would at times seem particularly snappish. But I knew that it was just because of you menstruating, so I didn't really think much of it."

"You didn't think my personality changed?" she asked.

"No."

"Oh." She paused, looking down at her bare feet before peering up at him through her lashes. "There is one good thing about right before I get it though …"

"Oh?"

She sidled towards the bed, swaying her hips slightly. "My sex drive elevates."

His raised his eyebrows. "Does it now?"

"Oh yes. So you at least have that to look forward to!"

He reached out to grab her but she managed to jump away.

"Don't you dare!" she exclaimed. "Wasn't three times last night enough? I swear you have the libido of a pubescent teenager."

He grumbled and leaned back into his pillow while she pulled on her shoes.

"Do you want me to come back here after my shift, or should I go back to mine?" she asked.

He waved his hand dismissively, picking up his phone. "Do as you please."

She let out a huff and he looked up.

"I would of course prefer you to come back here," he stated quickly. "But don't unless you want to."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Of course I want to, I always want to."

Several hours later Molly was on her way out of Bart's. Her shift had ended exactly two hours earlier than it was supposed to. Somehow the schedules had gotten mixed up and she was able to go home sooner than she had thought. This didn't bother her though. She did love her job, she found it very fulfilling, but she also loved the thought of returning to Sherlock.

As she made her way to Baker Street she started to do some thinking. It was very possible that she may have done a little bit of off-scheduling. Judging by the way her body was feeling, how desperately she needed and wanted him, it would seem that perhaps her little monthly visitor would be coming sooner than expected. That is if her increased sex drive was anything to go by. Or perhaps it was just the fact that sex with Sherlock was the most satisfying she had ever experienced and she couldn't seem to get enough of it, and it appeared that with him, the feeling was mutual.

After picking up some takeaway she let herself into 221B. Sherlock had given her a key a few days ago, just in case if he wasn't home when she wanted to come to the flat. She already had surprised him a few times, by being naked and waiting in his bed. He seemed to have rather liked that.

As she climbed the stairs she could hear him puttering about in the kitchen. It actually sounded a bit like he was rushing about. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Molly!" he called out, appearing out of nowhere, directly before her. This wasn't uncommon, but she still found it a tad unsettling.

"Gracious! Hello to you too!" she said, having jumped slightly. "Something wrong?"

He was fidgeting and his eyes beneath his safety glasses kept darting towards the kitchen. "Wrong? No. No! Nothing is wrong. It's just, my experiment, I'm not quite done with it."

"Oh. Am I interrupting?" she asked. "I got off work early … that's why I am here now, is your experiment dangerous?"

He shook his head. "No, it's not dangerous. It's perfectly safe."

She let out a snort. "That'll be the day. Sherlock, the majority of your experiments are highly dangerous!" She moved to walk around him but he blocked her path.

"I'd rather you not see it," he said firmly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not see it? Since when are you so secretive? What the hell are you doing? Did you steal another body part from Bart's? You better bloody not have!"

His eyes widened. "No! I didn't. It's not that at all."

She ducked under his arm, and she could have sworn she could almost hear a whinge escape him. She moved towards the kitchen. "If it's not a body part than I don't understand why I can't see it!" she said. She stopped in her tracks, midway into the kitchen, her eyes falling upon exactly what he had not wanted her to see. She sucked in a deep breath then slowly turned to face Sherlock "Are those my knickers?" she asked slowly. "The ones I couldn't find?"

His eyes started to dart again.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! YOU ABSOLUTE ARSE!" she screamed.

At that very moment Mrs. Hudson just stepped out of her flat. When she heard Molly erupt, she jumped and pressed her hand to her heart. "Oh dear!"

The front door opened and John came walking into the building, popping in for a bit of a surprise visit. Although, he was rather worried he may just manage to show up during them sha-sha-nope he couldn't say it.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" Mrs. Hudson said to him. "I think they are having a bit of a domestic!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH OH! *cue dramatic music*
> 
> Reviews make me want to update quicker!!! :D


	9. Having a Bit of a Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear! What has Sherlock gone and done now?
> 
> Will their new-found relationship be able to survive this?

* * *

"I think they are having a bit of a domestic!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

Molly's angry voice trailed down the stairs. John let out a sigh, shaking his head as he peered up at the door of Sherlock's flat.

"What has he gone and down now? Don't worry Mrs. Hudson; I'll take care of it." John made his way up the stairs and when he entered the flat he saw a sulking Sherlock and a fuming Molly.

"John! Oh thank goodness! A voice of reason!" she declared. "Will you please explain to this utter twat how it is wrong, so many shades of wrong, to experiment on my knickers?!"

John's mouth dropped open. He turned a thunderous glare on Sherlock. "You didn't!"

"He did," Molly spat.

Sherlock threw his hands up into the air. "I only wanted to know the strength of the fibers!"

She huffed out a breath. "Bollocks! That is complete and utter bollocks Sherlock! They're cotton! You could have used anything to experiment on! Why the hell did it have to be my knickers? Those were a favourite pair of mine!"

John crossed his arms. "Well to be completely honest I'm not entirely shocked, he used to do experiments on my socks all the time. But a lady's pants Sherlock? A Bit Not Good. Even if they are your girlfriends."

Sherlock let out a loud harrumph, staring directly at Molly. "I took them because they were conveniently coated in your orgasmic flui-"

John cut him off, holding up his hand. "DO NOT finish that sentence."

Molly's cheeks blushed a bright scarlet red. No one spoke for several moments.

John opened his mouth then closed it. He took a deep breath. "Right, that's my cue, I'm leaving before this goes any further down that road. Apologize to her Sherlock and then maybe you'll be able to discover how great make-up sex is!" He gave his friend's shoulder a pat.

A loud snort erupted from Molly. "That is NOT going to happen."

John grimaced slightly and hurried from the flat. He said his piece, though he wasn't exactly sure how much good he did. Surely they would be able to work this out!

It was clear to Sherlock that Molly was still very angry with him. He took a step towards her, but went no further. His hands fidgeted, his fingers twitching.

"Was that really Not Good?" he questioned.

She gave him a pointed look. "No. It wasn't, not at all. You took something of mine, and destroyed it. That's practically stealing, that is stealing! I wouldn't have minded if you took them to smell them or look at them while you're not with me, but to experiment on them? Not Good at all. You could have just asked. Maybe I have a pair that I don't particularly like anymore."

Her voice softened as she came to the end of her speech and he moved a few steps closer, but when he reached out his hands to touch her she took a step back.

"I think I need some space," she stated.

His hands fell back down to his sides. "Space?"

"Yes. Just to clear my head. Have some time to myself." She rubbed the side of her face with the palm of her hand.

Sherlock shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Ever the dramatic! No! I am not breaking up with you. Couples do this all the time, especially ones that don't live together."

"We practically do," he pointed out.

She ignored his remark. "Sherlock please. Just let me do this."

He exhaled a long, drawn out sigh. "Fine."

"The lab is all right, and the morgue, I won't ban you from them. But don't show up at my flat, please. I'll text you; it will just be for a few days."

She took several steps until she was directly before him and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, which he didn't respond to. After a few moments she stepped away.

"Thank you," she murmured softly before exiting the flat.

As soon as he heard the front door close he breathed out a sigh. He slowly turned, facing the main room. Suddenly Baker Street felt abnormally empty.

* * *

Molly didn't know why she had done it. Sure, he had pissed her off immensely, but was that exactly grounds for her to take a little break in their relationship? The man always pissed her off. It was part of his genetic make-up!

At first coming home to an empty flat, just to Toby, was rather nice. She was able to catch up on her telly watching (and not have to listen to Sherlock's snide remarks about the inaccuracies). The quiet was rather nice as well. It was never quiet with Sherlock, unless he was deep in his Mind Palace.

The first night alone she stood in front of the long mirror in her bedroom, taking note of the love bites he had left in various places on her body. They were now starting to fade. It wasn't until she slipped under the covers that her body started to ache. Well, a certain part of her body. She had grown accustomed to a rather somewhat daily schedule of pleasure. When she began to stroke herself, dipping into the faint bit of wetness, it just wasn't the same. She tried to conjure up memories, pretend that her fingers were his, but it didn't work. With a loud exhale of frustration she pulled her hand out of her pants. To say the very least, she was now feeling very miserable. She missed him. She missed him so much. Her fingers couldn't bring her any satisfaction, nor could the shower head. There was quite nothing like the feel of him inside of her. Nothing could compare to that.

Also, she never used to have trouble sleeping, but she had now grown accustomed to his warmth beside her, or him holding her as she slept. Even when he was busy with a case he would often come to bed with her, tapping away at his phone or laptop while she slept curled up beside him. The sound of his typing had actually lulled her to sleep. Now nothing seemed to do the trick.

She became more absent-minded while at work, often staring off into a daze during an autopsy, and more than once an intern had asked her if she was all right. She hadn't meant for any of this to turn into a punishment. She was angry with Sherlock for what he had done to her knickers, and in all honesty she did not want to know the details of what his experiment actually was. As she stood there her anger had quickly ebbed, replaced with a need to just be able to relax and not have to deal with The Great Mind of Sherlock Holmes for a few days. It was wonderful being in a relationship with him. She loved every minute of it. But it was also exhausting. She couldn't keep up with him. Not always. And it seemed that his little experiment had been the final straw.

No. She was not breaking up with him. She was most certainly not strong enough to do that. Nor had the thought ever once crossed her mind. Why would Molly Hooper break up with Sherlock Holmes when she had been pining after him for years? It was utter madness to even consider. It would destroy her.

By day three she had had enough. She couldn't believe that she had managed to last that long, and she was rather surprised that Sherlock had as well. He hadn't even texted her. He did show up in the morgue earlier that day, with Lestrade and John, to look over a body prior to being autopsied. This was how Lestrade came to know about them.

After Sherlock rattled off a rather extensive deduction, pointing out two mistakes that she had made, she rolled her eyes and snapped at him before storming off.

"Lovers tiff?" Greg asked, in a teasing tone.

"Mmm … ye _p_ ," Sherlock quipped back, popping the p, continuing to stand over the corpse and peering at it with his magnifying glass.

Greg's eyes grew massive, and he started to splutter. John eyed him warily, then realization hit him that Greg had no idea that they were together.

"You didn't know? About them?" John motioned with his hand from Sherlock to Molly, who had gone off to the other side of the room.

Greg shook his head. "Didn't have a clue. Bloody hell … is she mad?"

John shrugged. "I think the pair of them are. They're perfect for each other, really."

Molly overheard the entire conversation. She bit back angry tears, knowing that if Sherlock hadn't so cruelly pointed out where she had gone wrong with her cause of death predictions she would have jumped him and probably had her way with him right then and there, audience be damned. Gracious, what had the man done to her? Who was this sexual beast?

Later that evening, after doing a bit of food shopping, she returned home to her flat. She had a long weekend ahead of her, an odd occurrence. She usually worked every other weekend and was surprised when she saw that she had been scheduled as 'off.' But she took it all in stride. She was kind of happy about it. She was determined to contact Sherlock and hope that he wanted to see her. She had gotten over the comments he had made, realizing that what he had stated was blatantly obvious, and that he merely just spoke in his usual Sherlockian way. He had not intentionally meant to her hurt her. Once she put the food away she took out her phone and sent a text to Sherlock.

 _I'm sorry about snapping at you today. I miss you. I need to see you. Can you come over?_ – Mx

She readied herself for a shower while she waited for a reply, but she never received one. She worried her bottom lip, rather disappointed. The temptation was strong to send a text to John to see if perhaps they were still on a case, but she chose not to. Grabbing her MP3 player she set it on the dock in her bathroom and hit play. Music filled the room as she turned on the shower. She tested the water before stepping inside and shutting the shower door closed.

For several minutes she stood under the hot water, letting it cascade over her. One of her favourite songs came on and she started to sing along with it. Suddenly a large, smooth hand slipped over her hip, coming to rest on her abdomen. A warm, naked molded itself against the back of hers.

"You didn't jump," a low baritone spoke into her ear.

She leaned into him. "I knew it was you. I know your touch."

His other arm came around her, just beneath her breasts, his hand cupping one of them, his fingers playing over the bud of her nipple.

"Mmmm." She sighed.

"You were singing," he said.

She couldn't stop the blush that came to her cheeks. "Yes. I was."

"Do continue." He rested his chin on her shoulder.

She let out a shaky breath and began to sing, "And after all … you're my wonderwall." She stopped when she noticed that they were swaying back and forth ever so slightly. "Sherlock?"

"Mm?"

"Are we slow dancing in the shower?" she asked.

"It would appear so."

She slowly turned herself around so that she could face him. He moved a step forward, moving her backward so that the spray of the water didn't hit her in the face.

"What's gotten into you lately?" she asked. " You've been rather different … very attentive. Rather unSherlock-like. I'm not complaining, I like it … it just surprises me." She paused for a moment before continuing, "I mean before the whole experiment with my knickers thing, and today in the lab."

He grimaced slightly. "Sorry about that." He gave a shrug, before he put his arms around her waist, pulling her to him so that the stiffened peaks of her nipples pressed into his chest. "I'm happy," he answered before kissing her.

She kissed him back, having missed the touch of his lips so much, before she stepped away a little. "I'm happy too."

He smiled and kissed her again, hugging her close to him.

"What exactly … were you doing with my knickers?" she questioned.

He sighed. "You're better off not knowing."

"Try me."

He sighed again. "I wanted to look at your orgasmic fluids under my microscope. I was curious to know what it would look like. I took your knickers because I didn't think you'd like me taking a swab from your vagina."

A loud snort erupted from her. "Well at least you had the decency to think that." She kissed him then pulled away. "That still doesn't explain why you basically destroyed my knickers though."

He twitched his mouth. "Well ahh … I wanted to see how your fluids would react to different chemicals … and fire."

She rolled her eyes. "Wanker."

"You know how I am."

She nodded head before giving him another kiss, moaning into his mouth when she felt his erection press against her. She broke apart the kiss, panting slightly.

"Can you stay the night?" she asked him.

He nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."

She gave him a cheeky grin. "How about the whole weekend? I'm off, Saturday and Sunday."

"Yes." He nudged her further back until she was pressed against the wall.

"Sherlock! … mmm … not here!"

He started placing kisses down the side of her neck, his hand massaging her left breast, the other resting on her hip.

"It's too uncomfortable, and slippery," she continued.

He let out a defeated sigh. "Fine."

After turning off the water they stepped out of the shower. She moved towards the sink to get a couple of towels from the cabinet, but he grabbed her from behind and held her up against him. His slick body was pressed against hers.

"How about I take you just like this," he asked, " so you can watch yourself in the mirror?"

The mirror was fogged over, but it was already beginning to dissipate. She could just make out that his hand was sliding down between her legs. He dipped a finger between her folds, stroking her ever so slightly. She closed her eyes, leaning back into him.

"You are so dirty! I like it!" she said.

"Is that a yes?" He shifted his hips so that he nestled his cock between the cheeks of her bum, his fingertip moving upwards so that he could stroke her clit. She silently nodded, unable to form words.

"Grab onto the counter," he told her.

She did ask he asked, gripping onto it tightly, bending forward.

"Watch yourself in the mirror. Don't close your eyes; I want you to watch yourself as I make love to you."

His hand was still stroking her; she could see them both clearly now in the mirror. She looked positively wanton, her skin flushed. Her legs spread apart. He pulled his hand away and she could see his fingertips were glistening with her juices. He met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

"Watch as I fill you," he instructed.

He shifted his hips away, then slowly delved into her. Her mouth formed an 'o' before a moan escaped her throat. It felt so good to have him back inside of her. He leaned forward, biting down on her shoulder slightly, holding himself still.

"God Molly, you feel incredible! I've missed you so much!" he gasped out. "Keep watching in the mirror, don't look away."

He began to thrust and she cried out, her grip on the counter tightening. He could enter her so deeply from this angle. It was somewhat mortifying watching herself enjoy being fucked from behind like this, but it was also somewhat exhilarating to see the pleasure that he brought to her shown on her face.

"Oh God, Sherlock!" she whimpered.

His hold on her hips was so tight; he was filling her with his entire length every time, his balls pressing up against her after every thrust.

"Don't stop! Please don't stop!" she moaned. "You feel so good! So good!" She flicked her gaze to his face. His eyes were closed, his face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. He looked as if he was in complete bliss.

"Molly!" he gasped out.

She moaned in reply, his eyes opened and met hers in the mirror.

"Touch yourself. If you can keep yourself steady, touch yourself. I want you to stroke your clit."

She shifted her left hand slightly, planting it firmly before letting go with her right hand and watching as she brought it downwards to her parted folds.

"Oh!" she gasped.

The sensation was increased tenfold by watching her finger touch her clit. Sherlock's thrusts increased in speed, he was entering harder into her now. Both of them were moaning uncontrollably. She continued to feverishly work her clit with her finger, both of them watching, fascinated by the sight of it. Then she was crying out as her orgasm washed over her. He gave one final thrust before emptying himself inside of her with a groan. He put his arms around her, holding her to him, both panting heavily. He met her eyes in the mirror, before turning his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed, the image of them before her disappearing.

"For once John was right," Sherlock mumbled into her skin.

"What?"

"Getting into an argument is worth it," he explained, " if make-up sex is what you have to look forward to."

Molly let out a laugh before turning her head so that they could kiss. They kissed deeply.

"I suppose another shower is due?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. There's no point, I'm not finished with you yet!"

"Ohhhh…"

He slipped himself out of her and hoisted her in his arms, carrying her bridal style from the bathroom.

They fell onto the bed laughing. She pulled him down to her and kissed him. He moaned into her mouth. His hands began to wander, cupping and massaging her breasts. When they pulled apart to catch their breath he dropped his mouth down to first one nipple then the other. He had missed her breasts, and she had clearly missed his mouth on them as well. She arched her back up towards him, clawing at his skin.

"Molly … do your breasts become more sensitive premenstrual?" he questioned.

"Yes," she whimpered.

He gave the tiniest flick to the very tip of one nipple. "Hmmm … I think I rather like that."

"Oh God!" She gasped as he bit down on her nipple.

He moved his mouth over to lavish his attention on the other one. When he was finished, her breasts were practically aching. He continued to kiss her skin, mouthing over the love bites that were now very nearly faded.

"Hmmm … seems that I may have to give you a few new ones." He nipped at her with his teeth, before suckling at the now tender skin. He repeated this several times, her squeaks and moans urging him on. Minutes passed as he lapped at her skin, teasing her with his teeth. She could feel his nearly hard erection pressing up against her.

"Are you ready again for me Molly?" he asked, hovering his mouth over her glistening folds. She could feel his warm breath brush against her.

"Yes!" she cried out, wanting to feel his tongue on her.

But she didn't. He pulled away and she moaned in frustration. He brought himself up to eye-level with her.

"What are you doing?" she asked him in an annoyed tone.

He chuckled. "I was going to make love to you again, but if you rather I didn't." He acted as if he were going to move away.

"Don't!" she shrieked, grabbing at him.

He chuckled again before pulling her onto her side, facing him, and hooked her leg up over his hip. He took his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes before sliding himself into her welcoming wetness. He kissed her as she moaned. He couldn't enter her quite so deeply from this position, but he wanted to face her this time, hold her closer up against him. After a few minutes like this, sharing several kisses, he nudged her onto her back, wanting himself deeper in her; needing to feel more of her around him. He lifted one of her legs, until it came to rest on his shoulder, her ankle curled onto the back of his neck.

"Is that alright?" he asked her.

She nodded yes, and he surged his hips forward. She was completely opened up for him now, with her legs spread so widely apart. He kissed her deeply as their hips rolled together. One of her hands was holding tightly onto her thigh, and she was moaning loudly into his mouth as he continued to kiss her.

He kept his thrusts slow, wanting to drag this one out. He had missed her so much, and at first he had hated how much he had missed her, berating himself for how easily he had slipped into the tight grasp of sentiment and caring. But now, here with her, their bodies so intimately connected, he didn't give a damn. He pressed a kiss to her inner ankle, continuing with his slow thrusts into her wet warmth.

They continued like this for several minutes, reveling in the sensation that their bodies were creating together. But eventually her moans grew desperate; she started thrusting her hips up to meet his.

"Harder," she moaned, "Faster. Please."

He kissed her, increasing his speed as he slid his hands upwards, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples that were oh-so-pleasantly sensitive.

"Fuck!" Her orgasm hit, and the tightening of her walls around him sent him directly with her. She was positive she saw stars form before her eyes.

He stilled, resting his forehead against her chest. After taking a few breaths he helped her bring her leg down, holding himself inside of her. They kissed lazily, and he cradled her face in her hands pressing his lips to her eyes, her nose, her forehead, before bringing it back to her mouth. They curled up together. She pulled the duvet over them, and she sighed happily.

"Is that why couples do this?" Sherlock's question broke through the silence that had fallen.

"Hmm?"

"Spend some time apart," he explained, "so that when they get back together the sex is even better?"

Molly laughed softly, placing a kiss onto his chest. "Possibly. I don't really know. You thought the sex was better?"

He cupped his hand under her chin tugging her upwards, she moved with him.

"Yes," he said. "It was never terrible; it was quite enjoyable actually, but this, right now. That felt …" his voice trailed off.

"There's no words to describe it, is there?" She brushed his curls back from his forehead.

"No. There isn't."

She kissed him and he slid his hand down to her back, pressing her down on top of him.

The next morning the pair of them were in Molly's kitchen. They managed to shower, after having a slow, lazy bout of sex. Sherlock's curls were still damp as he stood in between her legs, taking a bite of the strawberry she offered him. She was sat atop her kitchen counter, clad only in a pair of knickers and Sherlock's shirt. He had insisted that she was only allowed to do up one button. She curled her legs around him, dragging her ankles across his pyjama clad bottom. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

After popping a small strawberry into her mouth he kissed her, their tongues lolling across the fruit. He took a step closer to her, bumping slightly into the counter. He slid his hands over her hips, their kiss deepening, before he moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her forward, just until the cheeks of her bum were barely resting upon the edge of the counter.

The height of the counter was an advantage, bringing her up to be a bit more at his level. She groaned into his mouth when he pressed his erection directly against her core. He hooked his thumbs underneath the top of her knickers and started to pull down. He would have succeeded in his endeavor if the sudden sound of a throat clearing hadn't forced him to pull away from her.

"Brother mine, please refrain from your coital activities until after I have made my exit."

Molly felt Sherlock grow tense beneath her hands that she had placed on his shoulders. Their eyes met before he stated:

"Mycroft."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise visitor! What's he going to have to say?!
> 
> Reviews are my life-source! :D


	10. Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Sherlock’s dear older brother going to say?  
> Will he be happy for them? Or no?
> 
> \---
> 
> There’s a scene further on in this chapter that had me snorting with laughter when I came up with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

"Mycroft," Sherlock deadpanned.

Molly's eyes grew wide as saucers. "He's here? In my flat?" she all but squeaked out.

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered.

She began to button up the shirt, horrified that the elder Holmes should see her dressed in this manner.

"Think nothing of it," Sherlock told her, pressing a kiss below her ear before helping her down off the counter.

They walked together out of the kitchen. Mycroft was stood in the middle of the flat, dressed in an impeccable suit, leaning on his umbrella.

"What are you doing here,  _brother mine_?" Sherlock questioned him with a sneer.

Mycroft returned the question with a glare. "Do forgive me for interrupting your carnal acts. Allow me to congratulate you on finding yourself a goldfish." His gaze softened as he looked at Molly. "Good morning Miss Hooper."

"Mo-morning," she stuttered; she had never been nervous around him before, but now she was just plain embarrassed.

His gaze returned to Sherlock. "I have been trying to contact you for the past twenty-four hours. Mrs. Hudson hasn't seen you, nor has Detective Inspector Lestrade, or John. You turned off your bloody mobile!" he spat out.

Molly's eyes grew even wider than before. Sherlock had turned off his phone? He never did that! She stole a glance at him, he looked positively thunderous.

"What could possibly be so important?" he questioned. "Has Moriarty decided to return from the grave again?" Sherlock crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, continuing to glare at his brother.

Mycroft let out a sigh, tapping the tip of his umbrella on the floor. "No. That is not it at all. The British Government is not in need of your assistance at the moment. No, this current problem touches far closer to … home." He grimaced slightly as he spoke the last word.

Sherlock's arms dropped to his sides. "No."

Molly looked from one to the other, not having a clue as to what was going on.

"I will not see him!" Sherlock all but growled, clenching his fists.

A pinched look appeared on Mycroft's face. "I'm afraid you have no choice. You know how he is. He came to the Diogenes Club yesterday morning, there's no avoiding him."

This time Sherlock did growl. "What the hell does he want?"

Mycroft gave a dramatic shrug. "How should I know? You're the only one who ever fully understood him."

"Is that why you're here? To warn me?"

"Yes, and to also remind you of Mummy." Mycroft's eyes flit over to Molly before returning to Sherlock. "You know how she worries. She'll be pleased to know that you at last found someone to … tolerate you. If you don't tell her, I just might do it myself." He spun on his heel, making his way towards the door. "Do be sure to tell Molly about the other one, it is clear by the expression on her face that she knows nothing about him."

Before another word could be spoken he exited the flat. Molly stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Sherlock walked over to the sofa and proceeded to curl up into a ball, his back facing her.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that he was most certainly entering into a full-blown sulk. She knew it was useless to ask him questions, at least at the moment; he would only ignore them or snap at her. Walking back into the kitchen she gave Toby's head a pat before pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee and making herself some eggs.

A half hour later she left the kitchen only to find Sherlock still sulking. That was it! She had had enough. She turned back into the kitchen to cook him some breakfast.

"Eat," she commanded, walking over to the sofa, a plate of toast and eggs in her hand.

Without a word he rolled over and sat up. She handed him the plate and he tucked in. Once he emptied the plate she handed him a cup of coffee. He sipped it, still not speaking a word.

Molly wanted to know who Mycroft had been talking about, to find out who was this 'other one', but she knew Sherlock far too well. She couldn't just out-right ask him, because if she did he would just close himself off. He had gotten better at talking to her about different things, but she knew that with this that would not be the case. If he was going to tell her, it would be done on his own terms.

She sat beside him and began to press gentle kisses onto his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm, sliding her hand over his chest. The sigh he let out let her know that he was enjoying this. He needed a distraction; what Mycroft had said had clearly upset him.

Sherlock's eyes fell closed. She moved her hand down his arm, circling her fingers around the mug he was holding. She took it out of his grasp and placed it on the coffee table.

"Lie back," she told him softly. He opened his eyes, giving her a questioning look, before doing as she asked. She continued to kiss his skin, sliding her hand down his stomach before slipping it under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. He let out a muffled sigh, it turning into a groan when she wrapped her hand around his cock. He was already half-hard.

She shifted herself, moving onto her knees. "Lift up your hips."

He did and she pushed his pyjamas down to his ankles. Another groan escaped his throat as the cool air hit his newly revealed skin. His eyes flew open when she took him into her mouth. Usually she did so gradually, not this time. He was fully hard now.

He cursed as she moved her mouth on his cock, his mind going blank. He bucked his hips slightly when she added her hand. She reached up with her other hand, taking his and lacing their fingers together. He wasn't going to last much longer. He squeezed her hand in warning but she paid no heed, continuing her ministrations. Minutes later he emptied himself down her throat, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut. She kept him in her mouth until he was finished. She let his now-softened cock slip out from between her lips. She pressed a kiss to his stomach before she sat up, licking her lips.

Sherlock's head was thrown back against the cushion and he was breathing heavily. She shifted once more until she was no longer on her knees. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"You haven't smoked recently, have you?" she asked him. "You taste different, better."

He shook his head, still unable to speak. She brought herself closer to him, placing her hand on his chest, directly over his racing heart.

"If I suck you off more often, will you stop smoking completely?" she asked.

He made it look as if he were deeply contemplating her words. "Hmm … your mouth on me, or my mouth on a cigarette? Such a difficult decision!"

She gave his chest a light swat and he chuckled.

"Yes. I would," he said. "That is a perfectly sound negotiation."

"Good."

Their lips met and he kissed her hungrily.

"Can we go back to bed?" she asked him breathlessly between kisses.

"Yes!"

He kicked off his pyjama bottoms and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. He made a quick removal of her knickers and his shirt, tossing them both to the floor.

They kissed for a time, their hands wandering over each other's naked bodies. She jumped slightly when she felt his erection press up against her.

"So soon?" she questioned him, teasing the head with the pad of her thumb. "Your recovery rate will never cease to amaze me!"

He silenced her with a kiss, grabbing her hand and pressing it down into the mattress.

"Sherlock?"

His was working his mouth downwards, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses. "Yes?"

"Care to join me in an experiment?"

He lifted up his head until he was hovering directly above her, his eyes were flashing with excitement. "Experiment?" he questioned, finding the blush that was covering her cheeks, to be rather delightful.

"Mmm … yeah," she said. "There's a position I've always wanted to try … but I never could ask any of my previous partners to do it with me. I don't know why really … it's rather silly of me -"

"Molly," he interrupted, "what's the position?"

She bit down on her bottom lip before telling him. He quickly agreed, his cock throbbing in anticipation. They got into position.

He delved into her, amazed at how deeply he could enter her like this. She was beneath him, lying on her stomach. Her legs were pulled tightly closed, stretched out straight. Her lovely round arse was perfectly on view to him as he thrust in and out of her core. Clearly she was enjoying it as much as he was, judging by the noises she was making. It wasn't long before he was teetering near the edge, feeling that all too familiar tightening sensation. He slowed his movements ever so slightly, wanting to drag it out, bring her over the edge with him. He rolled his hips, letting the tip of him press directly into the spot that made her scream. She pressed her face into the pillow and moaned loudly. He repeated this action several more times, before resuming his previous speed.

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" he suddenly yelled.

His whole body lurched. He pulled himself out of her, swinging his body around. Molly let out a disappointed whimper and lifted up her head to look at him. He was kneeling at the edge of the bed looking down.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You're bloody cat is what's wrong! It swatted at my scrotum!"

A loud snort of laughter erupted from her, she dropped her face back down into the pillow her shoulders shaking as she continued to laugh.

"Molly! I don't see as to how this is at all funny!" he groused.

She lifted up her head wiping away the few tears of mirth that had lurked out. "Sorry! But it is! My cat swatting at your bollocks! Oh my God! You know how cats are! They see any form of movement, swinging movement especially, and they think it's something to play with!"

He glared at her before he sat down on the bed and crossed his arms. Rolling her eyes she got up from the bed, scooped up Toby and carried him out of the bedroom. Upon returning she closed the door and walked over to Sherlock. He was, of course, pouting.

"Did he scratch you?" she asked.

"No."

"Can I have a look? Just to make sure?" She dipped her hand down, lightly stroking his glistening cock that had already started to soften, before slipping underneath and touching his balls. "Everything seems to be in perfect working order," she announced, moving to kneel on the bed in front him. She moved her hand away from his balls and brought up both hands to cradle his face. "Can we continue, or did that destroy the mood for you?"

His eyes drifted downwards to his lap. "I'm not entirely sure yet."

With a cheeky smile she dropped one of her hands from his face back down to his cock. "I'll solve that problem for you." She kissed him and wrapped her hand around his length before she gave him a gentle squeeze. He groaned into her mouth and could feel her smiling against his lips, his cock growing hard due to her ministrations.

She pulled her mouth and hand away from him, their eyes meeting. "Better?"

He nodded.

"We'll just have to make sure he's not in the bedroom from now on," she stated.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Obviously."

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" His eyes met hers once more.

"Can we, can we continue from where we left off? I rather liked doing it like that. It felt … incredible."

His smile was answer enough. She laid back down on her stomach, pressing her arse upwards ever so slightly, beckoning him to her, showing herself off to him. He could see her glistening, so wet for him, like always. He moved over to her, placing his knees on either side of her hips. She let out a wild moan when he slid himself back inside of her. He leaned forward until his chest was pressed against her back, rolling his hips but not thrusting.

"Oh Sherlock! Fuck!"

He smiled, nipping at her shoulder with his teeth, then the side of her neck. He rolled his hips again.

"Stop teasing me dammit!" she cried.

He let out a loud gasp when she pressed her arse up. Stifling a groan into her neck he began to thrust in and out of her. They both thought that it would take a little while to return to nearing the edge of orgasm that they had previously been so close to, but they both were wrong. It only took several more thrusts, the head of his cock pressing hard into her g-spot that sent them both into the abyss. She was practically wailing into the pillow, he could feel her shuddering around him. He let out a contented groan before he slipped out and collapsed beside her, pulling her up against him, spooning her.

After a few moments of them catching their breath she turned about so that she could face him. She nuzzled his neck before he tipped his head down so that they could kiss.

"Just think …," she said, "you now have a new story to horrify John with!"

Sherlock let out a loud chuckle and he kissed her again. They lay together in a comfortable silence. He curled himself against her body, his nose brushing against her neck. It never ceased to amaze her how much the man loved to cuddle.

"If you have any more experiments you'd like to try … do share," he murmured to her, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth.

Molly laughed, bringing her hand up to cup the back of his head before turning her face to meet his. They kissed and she smiled at him.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," she said.

He returned her smile then narrowed his eyes. "You can't stop thinking about what Mycroft said when he was here." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "Hardly the right train of thought while we are discussing sexual positions."

Molly dropped her hand away. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh and rolled onto his back, "It's all right. You deserve to know." He spoke the next three words with a hint of disdain,"The other one."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmmm … who could the Holmes’ brothers be discussing? *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> Moaning-in-the-morgue is entirely to blame for that sex position Molly and Sherlock were doing … this post to be exact: http://moaning-in-the-morgue.tumblr.com/post/98916471477
> 
> And yes, the scrotum swat is what had me snorting with laughter!! xD I told you this fic was cracky!!!


	11. The Other One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this elusive Other One?
> 
> Read on, and find out!! :D

* * *

"The other one," Sherlock said, with a hint of disdain. He let out another sigh before turning back over to face her. "The other one is my brother. My twin."

Molly's eyes grew large with surprise. "Twin brother? How come I never knew about him?"

Sherlock circled her navel with his thumb. "John doesn't even know about him, not many people do. He's been living in China for the past thirteen years. He's a mathematician. We used to be very close, but then my drug habit got out of control and … we argued. I said some things I shouldn't have … like I always do … we haven't spoken or seen each other since. I don't know why he's suddenly come back."

Molly pressed herself up against Sherlock's body. "Maybe he wants to reconcile with you?"

He let out a snort. "Doubtful."

"Talk to him Sherlock, you'll never know unless you do."

He grumbled for a few moments. "Fine. Don't have much choice in the matter anyway. If he wants to see me, he'll make it happen. He is extremely stubborn."

Molly let out a snort of her own. "He is definitely your twin!"

Sherlock stopped her mouth with a kiss.

* * *

It was Monday, mid-afternoon and Molly was in the lab. She was sat in front of one of the microscope's, focusing on a slide, when she heard someone walking in.

She continued to look through the microscope as she said, "Sherlock … come have a look at this."

"I'm not Sherlock."

She spun about with a gasp, nearly falling off her seat, coming face to face with Not Sherlock. "No. No you're not," she said.

He looked like Sherlock. He had the same strange coloured eyes, same high cheekbones, and the same Cupid's bow lips. Other than that though, everything else was different. His hair was straight, not curly, and it was lighter in colour and cut shorter. His entire style of dress was different too; a bit more like John Watson. He had a bit of the scholarly-look about him too. Even his voice sounded different, not quite so deep, a bit softer.

Good God, the detective was rubbing off on her! She basically just deduced the man! Realizing that neither had spoken for nearly an entire minute she stood and walked towards him.

"You're his brother, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm Sherrinford. Sherrinford Holmes." He held his hand out to her, smiling warmly.

Definitely not Sherlock.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Mo-"

"Molly Hooper. Yes, I know who you are," he said, cutting her off.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Has Sherlock told you about me?"

"Mmm … no. Mycroft did. Sherlock is rather close-mouthed about a lot of things."

Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising an eyebrow. "And you're not?"

"Not really, no." He flashed her another smile. "Basically I am everything Sherlock is not."

"Ahhh … interesting."

Just as she finished speaking Sherlock strode into the lab, looking down at his phone. "Molly! Lestrade has another body that he is having brought down to the morgue; I'll need to have a look at it." He was about to continue speaking when he looked up from his phone and spotted his twin standing across from her.

"Sherrinford." His mouth formed into a thin straight line.

"Hello Sherlock."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock strode over to Molly and was now stood directly beside her. She was surprised that he hadn't put his arm around her, and yet she wasn't actually all that surprised. He was not one for public displays of affection.

Sherrinford smiled. "I just came by to introduce myself to Molly, since I knew you wouldn't. I must be off though; I have a conference to attend. Molly, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope that I'll see you again soon." With that said he left the lab.

As soon as he was gone the tension in Sherlock's shoulders disappeared. Molly eyed him apprehensively.

"Very strange, seeing someone that looks just like you, but isn't you," she said. "Rather bizarre, really."

"Perhaps you should have gotten yourself engaged to him instead of to  _Meat Dagger_. He's a much better look-alike," Sherlock all but spit out.

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed, giving his arm a good thwack with the back of her hand. "That was highly uncalled for!"

He grimaced slightly, rubbing his arm. "Sorry," he muttered.

She turned so that she was fully facing him. "What is it about Sherrinford that bothers you so much?"

Sherlock suddenly found the lab floor rather fascinating. She stepped forward so that she was the only thing in his line of slight. He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.

"You tolerate Mycroft, why can't you tolerate Sherrinford?" she questioned.

He slowly let out a breath. "Growing up, we were inseparable. The three of us. Sherrinford didn't have the mind for deductions like Mycroft and I do, but he didn't need to. His ability to solve any equation you put before him was enough. He got that from our mother.

"He was the one who always was able to make friends, where Mycroft and I never did. Sherrinford and I went to different universities, and that's where my drug addiction began. He had always been able to calm me down, quiet my mind, and whenever I would piss someone off with my deductions he would protect me, but without his guidance, without him by my side, I was lost. As soon as I graduated, Mycroft put me in rehab. You know all about that, you saw my medical records the day of my fall."

Molly nodded and he continued.

"While I was in rehab, Sherrinford came to visit me. I put the blame solely on him; I told him that it was his fault that I ended up there. He told me that I was throwing away my gifts, much like what you had said to me that day in the lab when you slapped me. He had always been the stronger one, and it horrified me that I had led myself to believe that I was nothing without him. He was leaving for China; he had gotten a position as Head Mathematician at a university there. He had come to say goodbye. I told him to go to hell. That was the last time I saw him. Until this morning."

She studied Sherlock's face for a moment before saying. "Why did he come back?"

"My brother is far more capable of accepting and showing sentiment," Sherlock explained. "He simply missed us and came home for a visit. Mummy and Daddy are positively ecstatic."

Molly bit back a smile. "Did you apologize to him? For what you said?"

"Apologize?" Sherlock scoffed. "Molly, that was thirteen years ago!"

She rolled her eyes. "Apologies don't have an expiration date Sherlock."

He only harrumphed in reply. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms about his middle; he hesitated for a moment, then placed his arms about her.

"There's another reason why Sherrinford came back to England," he said.

"Oh?"

"He told me that he knew all about what happened, with Moriarty, and my faked-death, the whole Magnussen fiasco, my drug relapse, and my four-minute exile and the fake Moriarty's return. Mycroft has been keeping in contact with him, telling him everything. I had no idea."

Molly tightened her hold about him, remembering that awful day when she had thought that she had lost Sherlock for forever.

"Do you know what Sherrinford told me?" he asked her.

"What?"

"He said that he was proud of me."

Molly turned her head and placed a kiss upon his chest. "Now you definitely need to apologize to him."

Sherlock sighed and she stepped back.

"Come on; let's go see the body Lestrade is bringing in. Then you are taking me home." She began to pack up the slides she had been studying.

Sherlock leaned against the table. "Oh, I am, am I?" he asked, smiling.

She looked up at him, glad to see that his mood was improving. "Yes. You are. I have a feeling that I'll be starting my period very soon, I want to get in as much time with you as possible."

"Mmm … you're correct. I've been mapping out your cycle. You will begin menstruating tomorrow," he stated.

She blinked at him. "Of course you would know exactly when."

An hour later they returned to Baker Street. Sherlock was quite set on taking her directly against the door as soon as they entered the flat but Molly gave him a look, and he knew better than to argue with her. He was rather disappointed though.

"I need to eat first Sherlock, and so do you. A package of crisps each is not adequate," she said.

Once they had eaten he tried to make a grab for her, but she ducked out of his grasp, stating that she was going to wash the dishes first.

"Molly!" he groaned. "You are driving me positively mad!" He pressed himself up against the back of her, letting her feel his prominent erection.

She only chuckled. "Sex on a full stomach? I expect you to know better Sherlock Holmes!"

"We've done it before," he muttered, before starting to place open-mouthed kisses on her neck, stopping to suckle on that one spot he knew made her grow weak in the knees. He slid his hand downwards, cupping her through her trousers, pressing his middle finger hard up against her. He was rewarded with a loud moan erupting from her throat.

"All right you horny bastard! You win!" she exclaimed.

She could feel him smiling into her neck. She moved to walk towards the bedroom but stopped when he grabbed her hand. She looked at him and he shook his head.

"No?" she asked.

"No. In here."

He led her into the other room, stopping when he came to his chair.

She raised her eyebrows. "Here?"

"Yes." He stepped closer to her. "I want to make love to you in my chair, Molly."

"Ohhh … is that what you want to do?" She took a step closer to him, and lifted up her arms so that he could pull off her jumper.

"Yes," he stated, tossing her jumper off to the side. .

She made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. He slid his hands to her back to undo her bra, but found that he could not unhook it. When she let out a giggle, he huffed in annoyance.

"What new contraption is this?" he growled.

She reached behind her and took his hands, bringing them to her front. "The clasp is here," she said.

"Oh."

As soon as her bra fell to the floor, he cupped her breasts in his hands.

"They've grown larger," he noted.

"Yes, they do that sometimes. And they are still very tender, oh!"

He brushed his thumbs over her already hardened nipples. "I like them both ways."

He dropped his hands to her trousers, helping her out of them and her knickers. Then he took off his own trousers and pants. Now they were both entirely naked, having long ago removed their shoes and socks.

"Have a seat." He beckoned to his chair.

She smiled up at him before walking over and lowering herself down, hissing slightly as the coolness of the leather hit her skin. He tapped the arms of the chair with his fingertip.

"Put your legs up here" he instructed. "I want you spread for me."

She did as he asked, blushing ever so slightly. They had had sex in the living room before, but never quite anything so out in the open like this.

"God Molly," Sherlock groaned. "You're always so wet for me, aren't you?"

He placed his hands on both arms of the chair, below her legs, and held himself directly above her pink, glistening centre, stretching his legs out straight. This wasn't going to be an entirely comfortable position, but at the moment, he didn't care. He entered her with one swift, deep thrust.

She cried out, grasping onto her calves for leverage as he delved into her again and again. He varied his movements from shallow to deep. She was moaning loudly now, with a few curses thrown in. His pelvic bone was pressing directly against her clit every time that he entered her.

They kissed as he continued to thrust, his hips smacking against hers. She moved her hands from her calves, to his sides, slipping them downwards until they gripped his arse. She threw her head back, moaning extremely loud when he gave a particularly hard thrust.

"Oh, Sherlock oh! Yes!"

He was quietly chanting her name, over and over, reveling in the tight, wet heat of her surrounding him. He covered her mouth with his, silencing her cry when he felt her climax around him. He gave several more thrusts before his hips stuttered and he held himself tightly against her as he came.

She dropped her legs down so that her calves were now resting by his hips. He fell to his knees and she held him to her, his face buried between her breasts. She kissed the top of his head, trying to catch her breath. He said something, she could feel the rumble of his voice, but she couldn't make it out.

"What Sherlock?"

He moved his head so that his cheek was lying on her left breast. "How am I going to be able to survive a week without being inside of you?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his dramatics, running her hand through his sweat-dampened curls. "You've gone days without, when you have been on a case. I think you'll be fine. I'm not changing my mind; menstrual sex is just … no!"

He let out a resigned sigh.

"Perhaps you'll find a case?" she suggested. "Then you'll be able to focus on that."

"Hmmm." He returned his face to between her breasts.

* * *

Sherlock did find a case, a triple-murder that took him out of London for the entire week.

 _Shame you'll miss me at my worst_. – Mx

 _Probably best that you're not here, while I go through this_. – Mx

 _There will be plenty of other times, Molly. Use a hot water bottle, I've read those help_. – SH

 _It does help, and I do use one, but only when I'm home._  – Mx

 _Speaking of your flat, I left something there for you._  – SH

Later that evening when Molly returned home, she found two Tesco bags on her kitchen table. One was filled with menstrual products, the ones she always bought, and the other was filled with several packages of crisps, two bars of chocolate and a note that told her there was ice cream as well. She found herself giggling as she pulled the items out of the bags, trying to imagine Sherlock shopping for her. Perhaps he had forced John to do it for him, or had one of his Homeless Network do it. Pulling out her mobile she sent off a text.

 _Thank you XXX_  – Mx

 _Make yourself a cup of tea and relax. Put on one of those silly films you always watch._  – SH

She giggled again, wondering where this incredibly sweet and caring Sherlock had been hiding all of these years. She hoped that he wouldn't ever disappear.

During the rest of the time that Sherlock was gone, Molly found Sherrinford popping by in the lab and morgue more and more often for a visit (it seemed that all the Holmes boys had free-reign of St. Bart's). It was nice; it made her miss Sherlock just a tiny bit less. And her mood improved when she was around him, something she was certain that her co-workers were happy about. When Sherrinford asked her to join him for dinner, she gladly accepted.

"I haven't had fish and chips in years," he stated as they settled down at a table in a pub he had told her he used to frequent. "The food in China is great, some of it a bit bizarre, but I do miss good old English food."

"How come you've stayed away for so long?" Molly knew her question was rather blunt, but she also knew how the Holmes' were; they preferred to be asked directly.

Sherrinford contemplated her question for several moments, toying with the paper coaster. "At first it was for legitimate reasons. Traveling from China to England isn't a very quick trip, not exactly one you want to take and only stay for a few days before going back. Also there was my job, it takes up a lot of my time, and I also help in the research department. I did have plenty of chances though, opportunities to come back, I just didn't take them. I didn't exactly know if I would be welcome." He paused as their beers arrived.

"You mean by Sherlock?" she asked.

"Yes. I've kept in close contact with both my Mum and Dad, and Mycroft, but not with him."

"Sherlock told me that Mycroft kept you informed about all that he was doing," she said.

Sherrinford nodded. "I asked him to. I was worried about Sherlock. And for a long time I did blame myself for what happened to him. You see, I actually am older than him, but only by five minutes. But still, it made me feel responsible for him. He did not have an easy time growing up, both he and Mycroft. Their lives were very isolated. That was entirely their choice really. I'm glad that he's cleaned himself up though, and that he's been so successful. And also that he's found someone."

Molly felt herself blushing under his strong gaze, it was so very much like Sherlock, and yet not.

"He's very lucky to have you," Sherrinford continued. "I always feared he'd end up alone. I'm glad that he hasn't. It's clear that you are good for him."

Her blush grew deeper. "He's good for me too." She took a large gulp of her beer.

"Never thought I'd be jealous of my brother, but I am," he said.

The glass nearly fell from her hand.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be quite so blunt," he said apologetically.

She dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand. "No, it's all right; I'm rather used to it."

They shared a smile.

"How long are you here for?" she asked.

"Only until next week," he replied. "The conference ended yesterday, and I'm driving tomorrow to my parents. I'll spend the rest of my time there, before flying back to China."

Their food arrived and they tucked in.

"Have you ever been to China?" he asked her, spearing a piece of fish with his fork.

"No. But I've been to Japan once, it was a summer holiday, went to Kyoto. It was beautiful."

"China is beautiful too. Where I am, in Shanghai, it is extremely metropolitan, the city is massive, but when you get out into the countryside, it's positively amazing."

"You don't think you'll ever permanently come back to England, then?" she asked.

He grabbed up a couple of chips. "No. I really don't. I've become so acclimated to the Chinese way of life, I really love it there. It is remarkably different from England."

A silence fell for a time.

"Would you ever consider coming to China for a visit" he asked. "I'm sure you'd like it."

Molly laid down her fork. "I don't think that that will be likely."

"No? Good. That means you're devoted to him as much as I hoped you were."

She narrowed her eyes. "Were you just testing me?"

"Possibly."

She shook her head. "Bloody Hell, all you Holmes' are positively maddening."

Sherrinford laughed heartily. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure that you were serious about him. I already knew that he was serious about you; my brother doesn't stop talking unless it's about something that involves sentiment. That's why I showed up at the lab that day; I had to know the woman that managed to melt my cold, unfeeling brother."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock is neither cold, nor unfeeling, he's just built up a barrier around himself to protect his mind from being taken over by his emotions." She paused, noting that Sherrinford was smirking. "Who, who was Redbeard? He mumbles the name sometimes while he is asleep."

The smirk fell away, replaced by a frown. The same crinkle as Sherlock's, between the eyebrows, appeared on his face. "Redbeard was our dog. He got sick with cancer, and had to be put down. Sherlock loved him. Redbeard was the closest thing he ever had to a friend growing up and his death devastated him. I honestly think Redbeard is the reason why Sherlock closes himself off so much. He's afraid of experiencing that loss again. That's why he didn't allow anyone to get close to him for so long. I never got a chance to meet John, but he must be quite a man."

Molly smiled. "He is. What John did for Sherlock, it amazes me."

"Don't give John all the credit," Sherrinford said. "Sherlock knew you long before John entered into his life. I'm quite certain you played a part in it all."

She traced her finger across her glass. "I-I suppose. I never really thought that before."

Later that evening Molly returned to her flat and was delighted to discover that her period was at its end. Now all she needed was for Sherlock to finish up his case so he could come home to her. She hadn't told him this, but not only was her sex drive increased before she got her period, it was also directly after it ended.

She took a quick shower, and was about ready to pull on her pyjamas and crawl into bed when her text tone chirped. She silently berated herself when she felt her heart rate go up.

 _Solved._  – SH

 _Do come to Baker Street if you so desire._  – SH

 _Come anyway even if you don't_. – SH

She furrowed her brows at his strange, cryptic messages. She was used to him speaking oddly through text, but this time it seemed even more so. She fired off a reply, letting him know that she would soon be on her way.

After rushing through her clothes she grabbed a hold of her black lace bra. It was see-through, and she had only bought it once on a ridiculous whim. All it took though was for her to wear it one time and see the look on Sherlock's face when he went to remove it. She knew he would never admit to it out loud, but he liked it. She decided to go sans-knickers, no use in creating another barrier! After pulling on a pair of trousers and a jumper she yanked on her shoes and rushed out of the door, grabbing a hold of her bag and keys along the way.

"Bye Toby!" she called out, just as the door slammed shut behind her.

The taxi ride to Baker Street seemed to her to take abnormally long, even though there was hardly any traffic. She just hopped it up to anticipation. As she wiggled her foot in annoyance, bits and pieces of her conversation with Sherrinford drifted through her mind. Had the man been flirting with her? She shook the thought out of her head and focused on Sherlock.

Arriving at Baker Street she paid the fare and let herself in. All was quiet in Mrs. Hudson's flat, not so much so in 221B; she could hear Sherlock playing his violin. Molly was rather surprised by this, knowing that he didn't usually play it unless he needed to think. The case was solved, what could it be that he was thinking about? She hurried up the stairs looking forward to, and quite willing to allow him to take her anywhere he so desired.

When she entered the flat she saw that Sherlock was by the window, with his back to her. He was dressed in his pyjamas, wearing his tartan dressing gown. He stopped playing as soon as she entered and put the instrument down. He spun about facing her.

"Molly."

She eyed him warily, his tone was odd, nothing like the way he usually spoke to her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He didn't answer her; instead he laid down his violin before he flung himself into his chair, pulling his dressing gown tightly about him. He was avoiding looking her in the eye. This was not at all the welcome she had expected, it was clear that he was in some sort of mood. He was never in a mood after he solved a case. When he at last spoke to her, her mouth dropped open at his choice of words:

"If you want to go with him then go, I won't stop you."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh! Jealous and suspicious Sherlock? Oh dear!!!
> 
> Have any of my readers seen The Last Enemy with Benedict Cumberbatch? Did anyone catch on to the fact that I somewhat created Sherrinford into his likeness? ;)
> 
> Again, another sex position thanks to moaning-in-the-morgue ;) see it here: http://moaning-in-the-morgue.tumblr.com/post/99947129382/welovesherlolly-sherlock-always-seemed-to-find


	12. If You Want to Go with Him then Go, I Won't Stop You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Sherlock … such an interesting form to see him in.
> 
> How will Molly handle this one?
> 
> … anyone up for another anatomy lesson? Hehehe!

* * *

"If you want to go with him then go, I won't stop you," Sherlock said to her.

Molly's mouth dropped open, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Sherlock. What the hell are you talking about? Go with whom?"

He pulled his dressing gown tighter around him. "Sherrinford," he spat out the man's name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I know he asked you to go back to China with him. He likes you, and I know you like him."

Her eyes flashed with fire. "How dare you! How could you possibly think for one moment that I would choose him over you?! I barely know him, and it is now very clear to me that you do not know me as well as I thought you did.

"I would never leave you. The thought has never once crossed my mind. But it appears you think I am capable of that. I'll come back later, when you are not in such a strop because right now you are being absolutely ridiculous. And for the record, he didn't ask me to go to China with him; he only asked me if I would ever come to visit!"

She shook her head moving to exit the flat, and she would have succeeded in doing so if it had not been for the fact that Sherlock rushed over to her, spun her about, and crushed her petite body against his.

"You're not leaving me?" his voice was muffled because his face was buried in her hair, but she understood him.

"No! You bloody fool! I am  _not_  leaving you!" She held tightly onto him.

He lifted up his head and looked down at her. She moved her hands to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"I do like your brother," she said, "but he's not you. I fell in love with you. I love  _you_."

Sherlock rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He was still holding her pressed up against him.

"I'm sorry, forgive me?" He opened his eyes and peered down at her. "I shouldn't have thought what I did."

She stood on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss upon his mouth. "You are forgiven. And no, you shouldn't have thought that at all. How did you even know?"

"Sherrinford called me. He didn't say anything exactly; I merely deduced it by the tone of his voice."

She shook her head. "Why do you believe that you don't deserve to be loved?"

"I'm a terrible man, Molly. Sherrinford is the only good one out of us three."

He felt her fingers tighten around his curls. "You are not a terrible man!" she stated fiercely. "Nobody is perfect, Sherlock. Yes, you sometimes say and do cruel things, but you are also capable of being both caring and kind. You deserve to be loved just like anyone else. You  _are_  loved. Not just by me, but by John, Mrs. Hudson, your mother and father, even Mycroft. And you know that Sherrinford loves you."

Sherlock dipped his head down to the hollow of her neck, letting out a slow sigh. "I've missed you Molly."

She laid her cheek up his curls. "I've missed you too. I expected you to pounce on me the moment I entered the flat, not be told to go off with another man."

He groaned. "Sorry.  _Again_. So much for sentiment and caring, all it's done is turned me into a jealous man."

She chuckled. "Oh, I think it's done quite a bit more for you than that."

After a few minutes more of standing in this manner, she placed her hands on either side of his face and lifted up his head so that their eyes could meet.

"Will you let me prove to you how much I love you?" she asked.

He took note of her dilated pupils, certain that his were mimicking her own. He gave a wordless nod. With a cheeky grin she took a hold of his hand and led him towards his bedroom.

She undressed him slowly then removed her own clothing, making him watch, and not help her. His eyes widened in delight when she pulled her jumper off, and he saw her black lacy bra. He lifted up his hands but she shook her head. He pouted, dropping them back to his sides. Once they were both entirely naked she nudged him towards the bed and he fell on his back onto the mattress. He dragged himself upwards until his head hit a pillow. His dark curls were a strong contrast against the white.

Molly crawled her body up over his, planting her hands on either side of his head. "Keep your palms on the mattress. Don't touch me," she instructed.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment before she dropped her head down and kissed him deeply. He groaned softly into her mouth when she dragged her tongue across his, before nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth. She pulled away from his mouth and began to place kisses along his jawline, before moving upwards.

"I love your zygomatic bones. They're so defined." She traced each of his cheekbones with the tip of her tongue. "And your jawline is rather dignified as well." She moved her mouth back down, nipping lightly at his skin with her teeth. "I love your Cupid's bow lips. They are always so soft and warm. And the things you can do with them … mmmm!" She kissed him, before proceeding on.

"Sternocleidomastoid," she murmured as she dragged her lips down the length of his neck. "Such a long name, for such a long muscle." She briefly stopped midway to suckle at a beauty spot, before continuing down. She stilled when she came to the dip at the base of his neck, where it met his sternum. "Sternal head … clavicle … I love them all!"

She slipped her hands over his chest. "Pectoralis Major, such a beautifully defined body you have." She took one taut nipple in her mouth, lapping at it with her tongue before moving to the other one.

Sherlock was breathing heavily now, she could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her palm. He moaned when she continued to lavish his body with kisses. And when she reached his stomach she slowed down, taking the time to drag her tongue across and place her mouth against each and every scar; some more fresh than others. She brushed her nose against his navel, positioning herself carefully so that she didn't yet touch his erection. His moans were beginning to grow more desperate.

When she reached his hips she let out a moan of her own. "Mmm … I absolutely love your iliac furrow … so sexy … although I do rather like it's more common name, Apollo's Belt." She brushed her nose up and down both before dragging her tongue across each, followed by her mouth.

"Molly!" he gasped out, his cock twitching.

She smiled, stealing a glance up at his face. His lips were parted, his eyes were closed and his face was flushed. She loved it when he looked like this.

"There is though," she continued, "no part of your anatomy that I love quite so much as your … cock." She pressed her lips ever so lightly to the glistening tip.

A low groan escaped his throat and she slid her tongue over the frenulum before delicately slipping it over the glans. She moved her mouth away to lightly flick at him with her tongue, making his whole body twitch. She chuckled softly as she brushed her nose down the length of him. His hands were clutching at the bed sheet. She nipped at his scrotum with her teeth, before sliding her tongue over the same area. He lost all control over his noises. Picking her head back up, she took in as much of him as she could into her mouth, and gave him a hard suck, humming around him. He threw his head back into the pillow.

"Fuck! Molly!" he groaned.

With a soft pop she released him. "Are you close?" she asked him.

He opened his eyes and peered down at her before wordlessly nodding. She gave the head of his cock a final kiss before sliding her body upwards, careful to avoid brushing her wet centre over his.

She straddled his stomach and picked up his hands, bringing them to rest on her hips. She brushed back his curls from his sweaty forehead, her own hair brushing against his chest, before placing a kiss between his brows.

"Molly …" his voice dropped to a low whisper as a he spoke her name.

Their lips met in a hungry kiss. His fingertips dug into her skin, holding her down. She groaned; the pressure that his hands created was causing her clit to rub up against his abdomen.

"What do you need Sherlock?" she panted against his mouth. "Tell me what you need."

"You!" he gasped out. "I need to be inside of you!"

She smiled down at him before moving her hips until they were hovering directly over his aching cock. He squeezed her with his hands, helping her to hold herself over him. He could have pushed her down, but he didn't, letting her stay in control.

"Do you need me Sherlock?" She dipped her hips downwards just enough so that she could rub her parted wet folds over the head of his cock.

"Yes." he moaned, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Do you want me?" She moved so that the head was now resting against her sopping wet opening.

His eyes flew open, meeting hers. "YES! Always. I'll always need you! I'll always want you!"

She slid herself down his length, gasping as his girth filled her completely. They shared a moan as she settled her hips against his. He brought his hands to the small of her back and she leaned forward, their mouths meeting.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she gasped. "I love how you make me feel when you are inside of me!"

She drew herself up and almost entirely off of him before dropping herself back down, mouthing at his jawline. Her movements were slow; she wanted to drag out the sensation as long as possible.

"Molly! My Molly!" he panted into her skin, kissing her shoulder.

"Yes Sherlock! I'm yours!"

She placed her palms onto his chest, holding herself up slightly. He opened his eyes, looking up at her as she brought her movements to a standstill, keeping him nestled inside of her.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love," she quoted softly to him.

"Shakespeare," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

"Mmm …" She leaned down and kissed him, lifting herself off of his cock before dropping herself back down on him, hard.

"Molly!" Sherlock gasped.

She smiled down at him and pushed herself up to a fully seated position. She let out a small yelp when he followed her upwards so that they were both now sitting up. He tugged her legs so that they were wrapped around his waist, resting on the mattress. She moaned and continued to move herself up and down him, taking him in fully. He held her close to him, her breasts pressed up against his chest as he kissed her deeply. He rolled his pelvis directly up against her clit and she moaned loudly into his mouth, her nails digging into his back.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she panted out. "You feel so good!"

He tilted her back slightly so that he could take her breasts into his mouth, sucking on each nipple in turn. She threw her head back, her lips parting as she increased her speed on him.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" she cried out.

He cupped her bum in his hands, holding her steady so that he could rock his hips along with her movements. The noises she was making were surely to be his undoing, if not that then at least the tightness of her around him.

"Molly, you feel so incredible!" he gasped out against her skin.

She let out a whimper and he arched his back slightly, shifting the angle that he entered her as she continued to ride him. It was only moments later that they came in unison. He never had heard her scream so loudly. She collapsed against him, her body now limp. He cradled her in his arms, his mind deliciously fogged.

They stayed like this for several minutes, until he shifted her slightly so that he could slip himself out of her before laying her down on her back. He stretched out beside her, neither one of them bothering to clean themselves up. She laced their fingers together, before lifting up their joined hands and kissing the top of his.

"So … did I prove it to you?" she asked.

He answered her with a kiss. "Yes. Most definitely yes." He kissed her again and could feel her smiling against his mouth.

She was still holding his hand, some minutes later. She lifted it up, having recovered some of her energy and was studying his long, slender fingers.

"I love your hands too," she said. "They're so … large. And quite lovely. They are just as talented as that mouth of yours." She pressed a kiss to each pad of his fingers. Once she laced their fingers back together, she dropped their hands down to the mattress and her eyes fluttering closed.

"Molly?"

She hummed sleepily in response.

"Do you think we should change our living arrangements?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo ... that's a bit of a shocker coming from Sherlock eh?
> 
> The line that Molly quotes to Sherlock is from Shakespeare's, Hamlet ;)
> 
> Reviews are life! :D


	13. Do You Think We Should Change Our Living Arrangements?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Sherlock is ready to take their relationship to the next step, but is Molly?

* * *

"Do you think we should change our living arrangements?" Sherlock questioned.

Molly's eyes flew open, she was no longer feeling all that tired. She tilted her head so that she could look at him directly. "What do you mean exactly?" she asked.

He moved himself until he was hovering over her, bringing his hand up to brush back her hair from her forehead. "What I mean is, I want you to live here, with me."

She blinked at him. "Why?"

He let out an annoyed huff. "How could you ask that? It's so blatantly obvious!" He quirked an eyebrow and glanced down at her naked body beneath his.

Instead of the pleased smile that he expected she looked angry, very angry. With one great shove of her hand she pushed him away. She sat up, slipping out from beneath the sheets and began looking for her clothes that had been haphazardly thrown about.

"Molly … what on earth are you doing?"

He watched he as she searched for her bra, when she didn't find it (he thinks he kicked it under the bed) she pulled on her jumper. Her trousers soon followed and she still hadn't said a word. What had he done now that was Not Good?

"Molly?"

She spun about, facing him. "Sherlock, the answer is no. I am not moving in with you. I am not going to start living here just so that you can have me at your beck and call to fulfill your sexual needs. I am not your sex toy."

"Sex toy?" he repeated, slowly. His eyes widened in horror, and he sputtered. "Molly! That's not what I meant at all!"

She rested her hand on her hip. "Really Sherlock? You made it all too clear that that's exactly what you meant! And after all I said and did for you tonight." She shook her head, a downcast look coming to her eyes.

He knew that he needed to fix this. It had not gone at all in the way that he had intended it to. What had he done wrong? He quickly searched through his Mind Palace while Molly continued looking about the room for her shoes. He hit upon it suddenly. She let out a great shriek when he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her back down to the mattress.

"Sherlock! Don't!" she cried out.

He began to shower her face with kisses."Please, Hush Molly! Allow me to make this right!"

She dropped her head down to the pillow and glared up at him, hoping to God that he wouldn't turn on his puppy dog eyes. Anything but that. She couldn't resist those damn eyes of his.

He looked at her with a sad expression. "I'm sorry that I made you think what you did. That's not how I think of you at all. The sex is … an advantage to our relationship, a very enjoyable advantage, but it's not the only reason why I am with you. Molly, before we entered into this relationship I only ever found true happiness when I had a case, preferably a murder case. There is nothing though that can compare to the rush I feel when I am with you. And I don't just mean when we are in bed, or on the sofa, or my chair-MMF!"

She gave his head a light swat.

"Right, sorry. I want you here with me, all the time," he continued, "because I feel empty when you're gone. Baker Street doesn't feel right anymore unless you are here. It's not just for convenience, although that will be rather nice, it's because I don't want to be alone anymore, and I don't think you do either."

She let out a slow breath, before bringing her hands up to rest onto the back of his neck, gently massaging the skin there, just the way he liked it.

"We hardly ever are alone, Sherlock," she said. "You are either at mine, or I'm here."

"Exactly. Just think of the money we will save on not having to pay cab fare anymore!"

She started to laugh, and he visibly allowed himself to relax.

"I don't know Sherlock. That's a very big step to take. We haven't been together for all that long."

He snorted. "Do you not spend ridiculous amounts of time perusing those celebrity magazines? Have you not seen how quickly some of those people get married? In our case I don't think it's a very big step at all, I'm not asking you to marry me yet, I just want you to live here."

Molly forced herself to keep her eyes under control, certain that she had not just heard Sherlock hint that he intended on asking her to marry him. He continued to peer down at her, anxiously awaiting a reply.

"Sherlock … I … I don't know. I can't give you a definite answer. Not yet. Is that alright? Can I think about it? Please?"

This was not at all what he wanted.

He let out a disappointed sigh. "Fine. Think about it." He rolled off, turning his back to her, before he curled up into a ball.

She let out a slight puff of air and quickly pulled off her jumper and trousers, before slipping her body up behind his, spooning against him.

"I'm not saying no, Sherlock. Giving up my flat, making this my permanent home … it's a lot to take in. Maybe your amazing brain can wrap itself around that concept easily, but mine can't. Please try to understand that."

He struggled to ignore the fact that her naked body was now pressed up against his. He wanted to pout, he wanted to sulk. He hated not getting his way.

"Please Sherlock." She started to place open-mouth kisses onto his back, stopping to suckle at a beauty mark every now and then.

Damn. She knew exactly what to do to make him entirely compliant. Her hands started to drift downwards. He gave a slight shriek (no he did not!) when her fingers came into contact with his bum and gave it a pinch. He could feel her chuckling into his back.

He got his revenge by twisting himself about in one rapid motion; she yelped. He grabbed her hands, lacing their fingers together before pushed her down onto her back, pressing their joined hands into the mattress as he hovered over her. If you could call that hovering, his stomach was brushing up against her, as well as other hardened parts of his anatomy.

"Sherlock!" she gasped out.

He smiled wickedly down at her. "Say you'll move in with me." He dipped his hips forward.

"NO!"

He grumbled, pressing himself further up against her. "Please?"

She shook her head.

"Dammit Molly!"

"You can not entice me with sex Sherlock! That won't make me say yes."

He continued to grumble, lifting his hips away from hers. "You are extremely stubborn."

"Look who's talking."

A low growl escaped his throat. He released her hands and dropped his body down beside her, inching away slightly.

"Honestly Sherlock, you are like a toddler who isn't being allowed to get what they want!"

He turned his face away from her.

"STOP IT! You're being ridiculous!" She sat up, peering down at him.

In one swift movement he was sitting up as well. "Isn't this how a relationship progresses? I know that I'm not well-versed, nor very knowledgeable about these things, but isn't this how it usually all goes?" He gestured wildly with his hands while he spoke.

She grabbed a hold of his hands, and moved to sit on his lap; his hardened member had faded quite a bit.

"Sherlock." She placed his hands onto her back, giving him no choice but to look her directly in the eye. "This  _is_ how relationships usually go; people do tend to move in with each other. And I really do appreciate you trying, I know that this has all been rather strange for you, and it means a lot to me that you want to actually do this."

"So why won't you?" he asked, a pout forming.

She bit down on her lip, surprised that he actually sounded like he was whinging.

"I'm not saying that I won't! Just not yet."

He pouted fully, furrowing his brows so that they formed the scrunch directly above his nose. She leaned forward and nipped at his protruding bottom lip with her teeth.

"Maybe I'll say yes tomorrow?" she suggested.

He groaned dropping his head to her shoulder.

"Why is it so important to you for me to say yes, straight away?" she asked.

He moved his hands up her back so that he was holding her close. "Because I want you here with me, always."

She mimicked his gesture, laying her cheek onto his shoulder. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow. Isn't that soon enough?"

He humphed and she dug her nails into his back. He gave a slight flinch and she giggled, dropping one of her hands further downwards to give his bum another pinch.

"Stop it!" he growled.

She giggled again but her laughter ended with a gasp when he shoved her down onto her back, her head nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.

"You're impossible," he grumbled.

"Mmm … so are you."

He dipped his head down and kissed her. "Tomorrow better come quickly," he stated between kisses. "You … not so much."

She gasped again when he moved his hand down between their bodies.

* * *

"So what do you think? What should I do?" she asked.

Molly was sat on the Watson's sofa, holding their nearly one-year old daughter Emily, in her arms. John leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Mary gave him an encouraging look.

"Molly," he started, "we can't make the decision for you. We can't tell you what to do; it's entirely your choice."

She sighed. "I know John, it's just, you've lived with him! I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to tell me outright, 'Oh God don't!'"

John chuckled. "Yes well … I will tell you this, you'll probably want to murder him at least twice a day, if you already don't! He's quite the slob, except with his experiments, and there is almost always a body part in the fridge … but you're usually the one who provides him with those, so why I am telling you this?" He paused, before continuing, "Sherlock clearly wants you to be with him; he wouldn't have asked you otherwise. I honestly never thought I'd see the day that this would happen, but I'm glad that it's with you. You're good for him Molly. He's a changed man because of you."

Molly peered down at the little girl asleep in her arms.

Mary chimed in, "If he ever starts to act like a bigger dick than usual, just remind him that I can, and will, come over and kick his arse."

Molly snorted then quickly checked to make sure that she hadn't woken up Emily. "Thank you, thank you both." She looked up at them, smiling.

John mirrored her smile. "You already made your decision, long before you came over, didn't you?"

Molly nodded, failing to keep her smile from widening. "Yeah … I just wanted to be reassured, that's all."

John chuckled again. "Yes well … when you decide, more like he decides for you, to attach yourself to Sherlock Holmes, you need all the reassurance you can get!"

Molly returned to her flat shortly after leaving the Watson's home. She slowly walked through each room, Toby rubbing himself against her legs. As she did this she found that nearly every memory that she thought of had to do with Sherlock. She wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. Yes, she had made her decision.

She would not miss this flat. She had made it as homey and comfortable as possible, but it never felt quite right; now she knew why. It was time to let go of the old and begin with the new.

Speaking of new, she had almost entirely forgot about the shopping she had recently done the last time she had gone out with Meena. Hurrying into her bedroom she opened her wardrobe and began to burrow through the things she had piled on top of the bag to hide it. She had done so purposely, in case Sherlock stopped by and was in a snooping mood. She did not want him to see this, not yet.

Grabbing the bag she stepped away from her wardrobe and pulled out the negligee. She felt rather ridiculous as she stared at it. Meena had more or less teased her mercilessly until she bought it.

It wasn't entirely sexy, although it did show a fair bit of skin. There wasn't any lace or see-through bits, it was just that it was very much so … her. The fabric was of the softest silk, it felt almost sinful against her skin, much like Sherlock's fingers. And the colour was a pale pink, rather similar to the shade of her pair of knickers that he had  _experimented_  on. She didn't know if she had done that purposely to tease him or not.

The negligee was flowy and light, and hugged her curves in all the right places. It fell to just above her middle thigh, covering her just enough. She felt quite beautiful when she wore it. She could only hope that Sherlock thought the same.

She laid it out on the bed before she walked out of her room and made her way towards the kitchen. While she made herself a cup of tea she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, it's Molly, Molly Hooper. I was just calling to see if Sherlock was home or not."

" _Oh hello dear, no Sherlock hasn't been in since earlier this afternoon. That handsome Detective Inspector came by, so I suppose Sherlock has a case. Why don't you just call him?"_

"Thank you, I would have, but I have a surprise for him and I wanted to bring it to the flat without him knowing about it."

" _Ahh, I see. Not more thumbs, I hope! He let the last ones you gave him to rot in the fridge!"_

Molly bit back a laugh. "No. It's not more thumbs."

After talking with Mrs. Hudson for a few minutes more she rung off and finished her tea. She took a quick shower and put on some warm clothes, noting how the temperature outside seemed to have dropped recently. She tucked the negligee into her bag and hurried to Baker Street.

Sherlock still hadn't come back by the time she arrived there. She made her way up to the flat and into his bedroom, before making quick work of removing her shoes and clothes before slipping on the negligee. She settled herself against the edge of his bed, but when she started to shiver she grabbed one of his nearby dressing gowns and slipped it on. Now warmer, she sent off a text to Sherlock.

 _Busy_? – Mx

 _Lestrade had a case for me, a pathetic four._  – SH

 _Solved it, then?_  – Mx

 _Yes._  – SH

 _Where are you?_  – SH

 _Baker Street._  – Mx

 _Come at once if convenient._  – Mx

 _If inconvenient, come anyway._  – Mx

She chuckled to herself as she sent the last text, knowing that he would probably be annoyed by her stealing his line. Deciding to soften the blow a little she quickly sent another text.

 _I have an answer for you._  – Mx

His reply came almost immediately after hers had been sent.

 _I'll be there in 10_. – SH

She silenced her phone and placed it on the nightstand before returning to sit on the edge of the bed. She hugged her arms about her middle, anxiously waiting to see his reaction to both her answer and her negligee. Ten minutes never seemed to take so long to go by.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs caught her attention. She stood up, dropping her hands to her sides.

"Molly?" Sherlock called out.

"Bedroom!" she sang in answer to him.

He quickly appeared in the doorway, having not even bothered to take off his coat and scarf. She smiled at him when he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You have something to tell me?" he asked, continuing to move towards her.

"Mmmhmm. But first ..." She reached out and took his hand, bringing it to rest on the knot she had tied to keep the dressing gown closed. "Untie me."

His eyes flitted downwards. He stepped closer and quickly undid the knot, and when the dressing gown dropped further open she watched as his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh," he spoke this slowly.

He moved his hands upwards, gently easing the dressing gown off her shoulders so that it could fall into heap at her feet. She continued to silently watch as his eyes moved over her.

"Do you like it?" she asked, breaking through the silence that had fallen.

He only nodded before slowly moving his hands over the silky fabric. "It's very  _you_."

She smiled up at him. "That's what I thought."

His smile mirrored hers. She slipped her hands beneath his coat, moving them over his chest until they came to rest on his shoulders.

"Now … are you ready for my answer?" she asked.

She leaned closer to him, her lips hovering directly before his. Again he silently nodded.

"Yes," she whispered.

His eyes widened again, before they filled with happiness. He crushed her to him, kissing her deeply. He was bound to snog her breathless. She unwound his scarf, tossing it to the floor; his coat soon following. Not breaking the kiss, he eased her down onto her back on the bed. She unbuttoned his shirt and he undid his trousers. As soon as he was entirely naked they parted for air. She dragged herself upwards until her head hit a pillow. Sherlock moved his body over hers, studying the pink silk that she still wore.

"This really is rather lovely Molly, shame that you won't be wearing it for much longer, but for now … it stays on." He dipped his head down and took one of her breasts into his mouth, sucking on the already-stiffened nipple through the fabric, she moaned softly. By the time he was finished lavishing each of her breasts with his attention, the silk was entirely soaked.

"I think I may have ruined it Molly …" he said cautiously.

"Take - take it off!" she told him breathlessly.

He did so, tossing the possibly ruined negligee to the floor. A soft moan escaped her lips when the cool air of the room touched against her now exposed breasts.

"Ohhh…" she moaned.

He cupped her breasts in his hands, warming them with his palms, rolling her pebbled nipples between his fingers. They teased each other mercilessly for half an hour, not allowing either one of them to reach fruition. She was now straddling his stomach, dangling her hips over his aching erection, barely allowing her soaking wet centre to touch him, much to his annoyance. She only gave him a wicked grin, pressing herself forward so that he could feel how wet she was for him.

"Dammit Molly!" he groaned.

Before she could get out so much as a chuckle he grabbed her about the bum and lifted her up, moving her forward. She let out a yelp, then panted heavily when he positioned her directly over his face. Her legs on either side of his head.

"Oh God!" she whimpered. He worked his tongue in-between her folds, thrusting it into her hot, wet centre, stroking her inner walls. "Fuck!" she groaned.

Her hands moved to hold tightly onto the headboard, her knuckles turning white. His large hands were now cupped around her arse, holding her in place above him, he continued to dip his tongue in and out of her, nuzzling at her clit with the tip of his nose.

"Oh!" she gasped.

He was lapping at her hungrily now, as if he hadn't drank in a thousand years. His fingertips were digging into her soft skin, trying to continue to hold her in place while she uncontrollably moved her hips along with his movements. He slipped his tongue out of her, dragging it upwards until his mouth wrapped around her clit. He gave it a long drawn out suck, just the way she liked. Her legs were beginning to shake, a sure sign that she was close; as if her noises weren't indication enough.

Moving one hand forward he slid two of his fingers into her dripping wet centre while he continued to drag his tongue across her clit. He held his hand steady, allowing her to ride his fingers. He suddenly felt the all too-familiar tightening of her walls, with one last suck on her clit she came around him. She cried out loudly, a great shudder running through her legs. He removed his fingers, placing a few gentle kisses on her clit before cleaning her of her fresh flow of juices. She let out a few soft mewls.

He gave a gentle nudge upwards with his hands and with a slow exhalation of breath she released her hold on the headboard. He helped her lift herself off of him and laid her down on her back so that she could catch her breath. He sucked his fingers clean then wiped his mouth and chin clear of her juices. She was still breathing heavily, but was watching him with lust-filled eyes.

"What brought that on?" she asked breathlessly.

He gave her a rather cheeky grin before sidling up alongside her, his erection coming to rest on the top of her thigh. Her eyes flitted down to it before moving back up to meet his.

"I wanted to give it a try," he explained.

"Ahhh … can we do it again sometime? I uhh … rather liked it."

"Absolutely." He leaned forward to kiss her, pleased by the fact that she didn't mind tasting herself in his mouth.

Several beats passed in silence.

"Sherlock …?"

"Mmm?"

Her hand snuck down and she gave the head of his cock a stroke with her fingertips. He jumped then groaned into her neck when she wrapped her hand around him.

"Why do you like my bum so much?" she asked, releasing his cock.

"Mmmfff … what?"

She smiled, and repeated her question. She felt the puff of air he let out more than heard it.

"Didn't I already tell you that?"

She giggled. "Tell me again."

He leaned his head back slightly, popping his eyes open. Her fingertip ghosted directly over the tip of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-cum. He sucked in his bottom lip.

"Tell. Me." She gave him another barely there touch.

"Your bum is soft, round, and supple. It is the same milky white as your breasts, and just like your breasts, your bum fits perfectly into my hands."

"Mmm … good answer." She dragged a finger down his length, watching as his eyes fall closed. "Care to join me in another experiment?" She brought her finger up the other side of his cock, it twitching slightly.

"What- what experiment?"

She loved it when he stammered, a sure sign that he was extremely aroused. She sat up, giving his cock another teasing stroke. His eyes were still closed, and his lips were slightly parted.

"Lie back," she instructed him. "And open your eyes, you're going to want to watch."

His eyes flew open, meeting hers. He did as she asked, lying flat on his back, his erection jutting out from his hips. She gave him a wicked smile, much like the one she had given him earlier.

"Don't put your hands on me," she said, "until I tell you, you can."

He raised an eyebrow, always liking it when she turned commanding. He laid his hands flat down on the mattress at his sides. With bated breath he watched while she crawled over him, situating her centre directly over his, her legs on either side of his hips. But she wasn't facing him. No, she had her back to him. She was giving him a perfect view of her bum.

He wanted nothing more than to cup her in his hands, but he didn't, remembering what she had told him. His mouth dropped open as he watched her take his cock in her hand, holding herself directly over him. A loud groan escaped his lips when she eased herself down. He watched, completely mesmerized, as his length slowly disappeared inside of her.

She leaned forward, her hands planted on either side of his knees, giving him a clear view of his cock buried deeply in her. She was so wet and pink around him. Ever so slowly she began to move, lifting herself off of him, until just the tip was left inside before dropping herself back down. Her bum cheeks smacked against his hip bones and he let out another groan. She had put herself on display for him.

"Can I – can I touch you now?" he croaked out, desperate to have her soft skin beneath his hands.

"Yes Sherlock, oh!" She tilted her hips slightly, causing him to enter her at a different angle. "You can touch me now!"

He slid his hands over her bum cheeks, spreading them apart just a little bit more so that he could gain an even better view. She let out a little gasp when he lifted his hips up to meet hers, feeling the head of his cock pressing directly into that lovely little spot that always made such feral noises erupt from her.

"Oh God!" she cried out, she began to ride him more desperately, increasing her speed as she continued to take him in completely.

"Molly, this feels so good!" he groaned, not sure if the increase in sensation was because of the angle or the fact that he had such a lovely visual.

"Do you like this Sherlock?" she panted out. "Do you like me on top of you like this?"

"Fuck! Yes!" His hips were beginning to stutter, he was close, so close. He rarely ever came before she did, but it seemed that that was going to happen now.

She suddenly grabbed his hand, moving it forward until his fingertips met with wetness. She hadn't slowed in her movements.

"Touch me Sherlock, stroke my clit, make me come! I want to come with you! OH!"

Her last word came out with a loud gasp when he ran his fingers over her taut little nub. She jerked forward slightly, shocked by the intensity of the sensation but she quickly returned to the rhythm that she had set. Her hand slipped down over his, reaching his bollocks. She cupped them and gave them a gentle squeeze. A loud groan erupted from his throat. He continued to drag his fingertip over her clit until suddenly they both cried out, their orgasms washing over them. Her bum cheeks dropped down, his hips bucking upwards slightly as he emptied himself into her. The noises the pair of them made were almost inhuman.

She held herself on top of him, appearing to be unable to move. Her climax was so intense she nearly saw stars appearing before her eyes. With a little bit of effort, Sherlock pushed himself up into a seated position. He slipped his arm underneath her abdomen, pulling her up to him so that his chest was pressed into her back. She whimpered softly, he was still nestled inside of her, and the sensation of his now softened cock rubbing against her walls was almost too much. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he began to place open mouth kisses on her neck.

"God Molly, that was – thank you!"

She tilted her head to the side, so that their lips could meet, he felt her smiling against his mouth. "You're welcome."

"What is – ahh – that position called?"

She let out a little giggle, bringing up her hand to run her fingers through the curls on the back of his head. "Reverse Cowgirl," she answered.

"Cowgirl?" he said slowly.

"Mmm yeah. It's a silly name. I know."

"Yes. I think it needs a new name." He returned his mouth to her neck.

"Oh? Do you have something in mind?"

"Mmm … My Lover Gives Me an Excellent View of Her Bum," he declared.

Molly couldn't help but laugh. "That's too many words Sherlock!"

"Hmmm? My Lover's Bum?"

She turned her head again, nipping at his bottom lip. "That's better."

They lay quietly for a time, basking in the afterglow. He was brushing his fingertips up and down her arms, sometimes drawing chemical equations on her skin.

"What are we going to do about my flat?" she suddenly asked.

Sherlock turned his head, brushing his nose against the back of her ear. "Mycroft will take care of it."

"And my furniture? I don't need to keep any of it. I bought it all second hand, none of it is important to me."

"Again, Mycroft." Sherlock nibbled on her earlobe.

Molly giggled, knowing how annoyed Mycroft was going to be. "I only want to keep my books and a few other things, and of course my clothes. Other than that, I don't need to keep anything else."

Sherlock hummed against her neck, having moved his mouth downwards.

"Sherlock?" she spoke his name hesitatingly.

He hummed again in response.

"What about Toby?"

Sherlock lifted up his head to look down at her. "What do you mean what about him? He'll be coming here with you, won't he? Unless I entirely misjudged your inane attachment to him, and you plan on getting rid of him."

She shook her head. "No. I could never get rid of him; I just wasn't sure how you felt about having him … here."

Sherlock sighed. "Molly, it's fine. He's a well-behaved specimen, except for when he sneaks into the bedroom during an intimate moment."

She giggled, remembering what had once happened. She lifted up her foot, giving his balls a light stroke with her toes.

"Molly!" Sherlock gasped out, his eyes widening in shock, causing her to let out another giggle. He growled capturing her mouth with his own to silence her laughter.

The next morning they were sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Molly was reading one of the celebrity magazines that Sherlock despised so much, and he was tapping away at his laptop. They were both wearing a dressing gown with nothing on underneath. Her her foot was absentmindedly moving up and down his calf muscle and she was just in the process of bringing her foot up higher when Sherlock suddenly exclaimed loudly:

"Oh bloody hell!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s got Sherlock’s knickers in a twist?! Hehe! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a review! I love them so! :D


	14. Oh Bloody Hell!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s got Sherlock’s knickers in a twist?!  
> Is it something good, or bad?

* * *

"Oh bloody hell!"

Molly jumped at the sound of Sherlock's exclamation, her foot dropping to the floor.

"What is it?" she asked him.

He grumbled to himself for a few moments before answering her, "My mother." He sneered. "She has taken it upon herself to invite us to come for a visit. Either that or she threatens to come here."

Molly blinked at him. "Us? She's invited …  _us_? She knows know about us?"

Sherlock's eyes met hers. "Yes, isn't that what I just said? I've not spoken a word to her about you; I hardly ever speak to her. No. It's those same newspaper moguls that claimed me to be a fraud; they somehow managed to get a photo of us in a rather compromising position. "

Molly let out a squeak and she set down her coffee cup. "What?! How?"

He spun his laptop about so that she could see it. There it was plain as day, although it was a rather grainy photo of the pair of them, but it was clear enough who it was of and what they were doing.

The photo had been taken a week or so ago, perhaps two weeks ago, before Sherrinford had arrived. It was at Bart's, when she had been sat outside getting some fresh air on her break, and Sherlock had joined her. He had gotten a text from Lestrade about a case and before he had left he had taken Molly into his arms and kissed her deeply. This had rather surprised her, for he was never one for public affection, and clearly this was proof as to why.

**HAS SEVEN TIMES IN BAKER STREET FOUND A NEW LOVE?**

The article practically screamed this from the page in big black bold letters. There was a caption below the photograph that Molly was certain gave her name; she didn't read it instead choosing to hide her face in her hands.

"Oh good God!" she groaned.

Sherlock only let out an indignant sniff.

She dropped her hands away and looked at him. "Why didn't you just tell your mum? What an awful way for them to find out about us. Do you not want your parents to meet me?" The hurt in her eyes was strong.

Sherlock quickly stood and moved to kneel down in front of her, resting his hands on her arms. "No! That's not it at all."

"Don't want them to know that you're with a woman who works in a morgue?" she said.

"Molly, stop it!" His grip on her arms tightened slightly. "That is not it at all and you know it! It's just that, well my parents they are so … boring. They're nothing like me or Mycroft. Sherrinford is really the only one that closely resembles them in personality –"

Molly cut in, "Get to the real reason Sherlock!"

He sighed. "I've never brought a woman, a woman that I love, to meet them before. I don't know how they will act, what they will say or do! It will probably be completely horrible!"

She let out a slow sigh of her own. "They can't be avoided for forever Sherlock, they are your mum and dad. I'm sure it would be lovely. I would really like to meet them. Do they still live in the house that you grew up in?"

He nodded, resigning himself to his fate. "Yes, they do."

Molly smiled. "Wonderful! I want to see where you became the man that you are today." She had brought her hands up to his curls. "Will you take me there?"

He grumbled again, muttering below his breath. "I suppose I must. Better that then them coming here! They'll just insist on us accompanying them to some appalling and sordid musical!" He shuddered and Molly pulled him to her.

"How long will we stay for?" she asked.

He groaned at the thought. "She'll want us to stay at least a week, I'm sure, but no! I will not endure that! Three days at the most, if even!" He buried his face further into Molly's chest. "I'd rather relive those two years away destroying Moriarty's web, then have to do this."

Molly dug her nails into his scalp. "Don't say that." The tone in her voice was fierce.

Sherlock tilted his head and peered up at her. "Sorry. Perhaps that was a Bit Not Good."

"Yes."

He tucked himself back into her. "So the article doesn't bother you?"

She carded her hands through his curls. "No, not really. I knew that there would bound to be some sort of publicity with attaching myself to you. I just didn't expect it to be quite like this."

"They clearly don't have anything better to do," he grumbled. "How very dull."

She chuckled then suddenly her hands stilled. "Why would a photographer be outside of the hospital? How would they have known that we would be there?" She felt him go tense beneath her.

"Anderson," he spat.

"What? NO! He wouldn't do that!"

Sherlock lifted his head and looked at her. "He wouldn't? Molly, he assumed that you had a hand in the faking of my death! One of his ridiculous theories was that I went flying through a glass window and snogged the breath out of you. Damn him."

She bit back a laugh, never having heard Sherlock say 'snog' before. She dropped her hands away from him, staring straight ahead. "You think he would honestly do that? Expose us to the media like that?"

Sherlock huffed loudly. "Yes. I do. I think I may need to pay him another visit."

She brought her hands back up to his hair and looked Sherlock in the eye. "No don't. Leave him alone. He probably did it to get back at you for all the times you told him that he lowered the IQ of the whole street."

All Sherlock did in reply was glower at her.

* * *

Afterwards, for three days straight, there were newspaper reporters and hordes of photographers camped outside of Baker Street. Both Sherlock and Molly refused to give any comment to the press, and Mrs. Hudson was nearly in tears at times because of all the flashes going off outside of her flat. It also brought back terribly sad memories to her of prior to Sherlock's fall; she had to increase her intake of her herbal soothers.

Sherlock did as Molly asked and left Anderson alone, even though he did have to withstand some rather scathing remarks from Sgt. Donovan. At first she didn't believe that the article was real, she couldn't believe it, it wasn't until Lestrade told her to hush up about it that she realized she had no choice but to accept the fact that Morgue Mouse Molly was now with Freak Sherlock Holmes.

The media's interest in them did eventually die down when a new celebrity made a faux pas and caught their attention. Exactly two days later, Mycroft sent a group of his men to pack and move Molly's things from her flat to Sherlock's.

The moving would have been done much sooner, if Sherlock had had his way, but Molly insisted on him giving her a little bit of time to sort through her things so that she could decide exactly what she wanted to keep.

Once everything was brought to Sherlock's flat, and Toby was released from his carrier (he instantly hid under the sofa), Molly put her foot down again. She told Sherlock that she wanted to unpack the boxes herself and not have Mycroft's men do it. Sherlock grumbled in annoyance but dismissed them. As soon as she and Sherlock were alone she gave him a grateful kiss before going into the bedroom to unpack her clothes.

A few minutes later she heard several loud thumps. Hoping that it wasn't Toby causing problems she hurried from the bedroom only to find Sherlock removing books from one of his bookshelves and piling them on the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"Making room for your books of course," he answered. " I haven't touched any of these in ages. I'll just put them somewhere else."

She walked up to him, wrapped her arms about his waist from behind and stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on the side of his neck. "Thank you."

He turned himself slightly, setting the book down that he had been holding. "I just thought that this would be the most convenient spot for your books …"

Molly shook her head. "I don't just meant thank you for this..." She gestured to the nearly empty shelf. "I mean for everything, all that you've done. You're really trying, and you're doing a fantastic job."

He turned himself fully so that he was now facing her. "I just want to make you happy."

She smiled at him. "And you are. I don't think I've ever been so happy."

He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, gently.

"Molly …" he started, once they pulled away from each other.

"Yes?"

"Isn't there some sort of tradition when two people start living together?" He moved his mouth along her jawline and was now working his way down her throat.

"Tradition?" she gasped out, tilting her head back. "I thought you were above all that."

"Mmm … with most yes, but in this case … isn't there some sort of celebratory sex tradition … moving in sex?"

She burst into giggles, grabbed onto the sides of his face and pulled him up to her. "Yes … I think there actually is," she answered.

"So … the rest of the unpacking can wait? Because I don't think I can." He pressed her to him, allowing her to feel how hard he was for her already.

She wordlessly nodded and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom, making sure to shut the door behind them which made her to burst into giggles again. He quickly silenced her laughter.

The following morning Sherlock woke first. For a few minutes he silently watched her sleep. Her hair was fanned out around her head on the pillow, a faint smile on her lips. He leaned forward and began to place feather-light kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, slipping his hand under the sheet to traipse his fingertips across her abdomen before coming to rest on her hip, at last bringing his mouth to hers (morning breath be damned!).

She sighed happily into the kiss, slipping her arms out to wrap them around his shoulders. She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily up at him. He smiled down at her. Neither one of them spoke a word, they didn't need to. He held himself over her before pressing his mouth to hers once more, after a few moments he deepened the kiss. Their hands met between their bodies. She gave his hardening cock a few strokes with her fingers, while he dragged the pad of his thumb across her clit. After shifting his body slightly, he took her hand in his and laced their fingers together, pressing their joined hands down into the mattress. Ever so slowly he eased his cock inside of her, delving into her wet warmth.

He mouthed at her jawline and settled into a rhythm of lazy thrusts; there was no need for a quick release. Every time that he entered her, holding himself in her for a few moments, Molly let out a soft little, "Mmm …" It was such a gentle sound, but he felt it to his very core.

With their hands still connected, he brought his mouth to her breasts and gave each hardened nub a tender suckle, continuing to thrust into her slowly. He kissed her again, her quiet moans entering into his mouth, as their tongues danced. He rocked his hips against hers, tilting his body in just the right way. When she let out a whimper he quickened his pace ever so slightly. They parted for breath and her moans grew a bit louder, he began to pant into her skin.

"Sherlock!" She her face pressed up against the side of his neck, and he tilted his hips again. "Oh!" She came undone around him, bringing him with her.

"Molly!" he gasped out.

They lay together silently, curled around each other.

"Mmmmm … can you be my alarm clock from now on?" she asked him, once the beating of their hearts had settled down.

He let out a low laugh, placing a kiss on her forehead before saying. "You'll end up being late for work all the time."

"This may be the endorphins talking, but I don't care."

* * *

Mary settled herself down into the extremely uncomfortable chair in the canteen, her hands cupped around an atrocious cup of coffee. Molly was sat across from her, nibbling idly on a sandwich. She specifically asked Mary to meet her there, but now that they were face to face she was having a hard time coming up with the words she wanted to say. It turned out that Molly didn't need to know what to say because Mary said it for her.

"I suppose you wanted to meet up because Sherlock is bringing you to meet his parents?" Mary asked.

Molly nodded quickly, swallowing the bite of sandwich she had been chewing.

"Don't fret about it!" Mary continued. "His mum and dad are lovely people! His mother is a bit of a force to be reckoned with, but his dad is positively adorable. He's a very sweet man. You really have nothing to worry about Molly. They're going to love you!" She took a sip of the coffee and very nearly spit it out. "Christ! How do you drink this shite?"

Molly gave a shrug. "I'm only worried about if they are going to 'love' me for me, or if it's going to be because of the fact that Sherlock is finally with someone. As far as I am aware none of the Holmes boys have ever brought home a woman. Sherlock finally has something he can truly one-up Mycroft with." She gave a soft snort and proceeded to eat the rest of her sandwich.

Mary leaned forward. "What is it that you're really afraid of?"

Molly swallowed the last bit of her sandwich before answering. "Sherlock told me that his parents are completely boring, and John said that they are surprisingly ordinary. I don't believe what either one of them says for a second. There is no way that they can be the parents of Mycroft and Sherlock and be ordinary and boring, that's just not possible. I haven't even met them and I already feel intimidated by them!"

Mary shook her head. "They're not intimidating whatsoever! You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. They are not what Sherlock considers them to be, they are incredibly kind and caring people. What about Sherrinford? You didn't mention him. Isn't he a bit different from his brothers?"

Molly nodded. "Yeah, almost entirely. Sherlock told me that Sherrinford is the only one that closely resembles their parents in personality."

"Is that a good thing?" Mary asked. "I never got the chance to meet him, but you did, do you like him?"

"Yes, he was really nice," Molly replied. "He has an entirely different persona from Sherlock. He isn't intimidating at all."

Mary threw her hands up. "See? There you go! Nothing to worry about. Go, meet them, have fun, be yourself! I'm sure Sherlock will be himself. I hope so; it's quite a lot of fun watching his mother rein him in. Too bad Mycroft won't be there, she calls him Mike, it's hilarious!"

A silence fell. Mary attempted another sip of her coffee but quickly gave up on it. She studied Molly for a few moments.

"There's something else you're afraid of, isn't there?" Mary asked.

Molly nodded again. "Yes. I'm afraid, terrified actually, that they won't approve of me. That they'll think I'm not good enough for their son."

Mary let out an exasperated sigh. "You are being ridiculous! Why would they not like you? What is there about you not to like? And what difference does it make anyway? Sherlock likes you, quite obviously. All that should really matter to you is what he thinks of you, not what anyone else thinks."

A few more beats of silence passed.

"It matters to me because…" Molly started, then paused for a moment before continuing, "because if Sherlock and I stay together, and I hope that we will, his parents will be the closest thing to a mum and dad for me … since both my parents are gone."

Mary placed a hand on top of Molly's. "Now I understand." She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Have you told Sherlock? Have you talked with him about any of this?"

Molly shook her head. "No. He's rather upset about the fact that we are going. And he'll probably just tell me I'm being foolish."

Mary nodded her head from side to side, taking her hand off of Molly's. "Yes, he might say that, and he might not. He's changed a lot since you two have been together. I think you should talk to him, so that he at least knows how you feel."

"He'll probably already deduce it before I even get the words out!" Molly said. "But I'll – I'll do it, I'll talk with him."

Three hours later Molly's shift ended and she made her way home to 221B. She stopped to do a bit of shopping along the way, deciding that she wanted to make dinner instead of choosing the easy way and getting Chinese. One could only consume so much of that, although John had told her that he swore that was all Sherlock survived on: takeaway and chips.

Loaded with her purchases she made her way up the stairs to the flat. Placing the bags on the floor she closed the door behind her and took off her coat and scarf, noting that Sherlock's Belstaff was hanging nearby.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"Kitchen," he replied.

She took up the bags and walked into the kitchen, finding him sat in front of his microscope. She put the bags down onto the table before moving over to him and placing a kiss upon his cheek. He turned his head so that their lips could meet.

"Hello" He gave her another kiss then noticed the bags of shopping. "Cooking tonight?" he asked her.

"Mmhmm." She began to take the things out of the bags while Sherlock watched her.

"Molly, you're upset about something. You only cook when you're upset. You bake when you're happy. What's wrong?"

She stopped what she was doing, but didn't look up at him.

"Molly?"

He stood and moved over to her. She moved to grab the jar of sauce but he stopped her when he placed his hand over hers.

"Can't you just deduce it?" she asked him, still not looking up.

"Yes. But I'd prefer not to. I'd like you to tell me."

He slipped his hand underneath hers so that he was holding it. At last she looked up at him.

"I'm not exactly upset, more so … worried," she said.

His brow crinkled. "About what?"

"Meeting your mum and dad."

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you worried about meeting them? The only thing you should be worried about is how bored you're going to be!"

She blinked at him. "You're not concerned that they won't like me?"

"No!" he scoffed. "Why would you even think that?"

She gave an unconvincing shrug and he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Molly, I don't need their approval of you. And you shouldn't either. Isn't my approval enough?" He stepped closer to her, placing his hands around her waist.

"It's just … it would be nice if they did like me," she said. "I hardly ever knew my mum, and it's been years since my dad …" Her voice faded off.

"Ahhh … I see." He held her to him, her cheek coming to rest upon his shirt. "This is one of those sentimental things that I'll never fully understand, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He huffed softly. "What did Mary tell you?"

Molly sniffed; of course he knew that she had talked to her. "She told me I was being ridiculous."

"Mmm … I'll have to agree with her." He kissed the top of Molly's head. "It's just a weekend, if you hate them or they hate you, it will just give me the chance to see them even less!"

Molly gave the back of his head a good swat. "For that you're on dish cleaning duty!"

She stepped out of his embrace and he let out a noise of aggravation.

* * *

Two days later Molly placed the last few items in her suitcase and zipped it closed. Once she brought it to stand she rolled it out of their bedroom and towards the door.

"Molly?" Sherlock called out as he came up the stairs. "Are you ready? The car is here to take us to the train station." He opened the door and entered the flat, spotting her pulling on her coat.

"Yes. I'm ready," she replied, wrapping her bright, multi-coloured scarf around her neck.

He approached her, and shifted her scarf slightly so that it covered her neck more fully. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you Sherlock, for doing this," she said. "For being willing to do this."

He tilted his head to the side. "Wellll … I wouldn't exactly say that I'm willing!"

"You know what I mean."

He frowned. "Yes. I tried to force Lestrade to give me a case but apparently Mycroft got to him before I could."

Molly held back a smile, the expression on Sherlock's face was nothing but purely miffed. She placed her hands on his arms.

"You're going to survive this," she said encouragingly.

He let out a loud exhalation. "I certainly hope so."

She took his hand in hers. "You won't have to face any of it alone, I will be right there with you … every step of the way!"

He peered down at her before smiling widely. "Yes, you will be. I am grateful for that!"

She gave his hand a tug. "Come on, it's time for me to meet Mummy and Daddy Holmes!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I handle the whole media thing all right? I struggled with it for a bit … didn’t really know how to do it, and I didn’t want the whole chapter focused on it! Was it convincing enough? 
> 
> Be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think! :D


	15. Mummy and Daddy Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Mr. and Mrs. Holmes like Molly? 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of rape (nothing detailed though), sorry!

* * *

"… it's time for me to meet Mummy and Daddy Holmes!" Molly stated, she let go of Sherlock's hand and led him down the stairs.

He carried both their suitcases and once they got outside he gave them to the waiting driver. Molly slid into the backseat and Sherlock followed her in. They had a nearly two hour train ride to the Cotswolds before them.

"I put four new science papers on my tablet for you," she told him. "One is about—"

Before she could finish what she was saying Sherlock covered her mouth with his, silencing her with a kiss. He could feel her smiling against his lips.

"Didn't want you to be bored on the train," she stated, peering up at him.

He smiled down at her and gave her another kiss.

They arrived at the station and settled into their seats. Molly gave Sherlock her tablet and she made herself cozy with a book of her own. Just as the train started to move forward she chuckled, a thought suddenly coming to her.

"Remember Sherlock, they're cars, not carriages." She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

He sighed. "Ahh yes, Shilcott."

She let out another giggle. "That was a fun day."

He looked up from the tablet and stared straight ahead. "Yes, it was. I rather enjoyed it."

After resituating herself slightly she leaned her head against his shoulder and opened her book.

"Reading  _Jane Eyre_  again?" he questioned.

"Mmm … I don't know why exactly, but I always feel compelled to read it around this time of year; must be something about the weather being rather gloomy."

A few beats of silence passed. She become so engrossed in her book that she didn't take notice of Sherlock's hand coming to rest upon her knee. Nor did she notice that he slowly began to move it upwards toward the hem of her skirt. It wasn't until he stroked her inner thigh with his finger that she realized what he was doing.

"Sherlock!" she hissed.

He didn't look up from the tablet, nor did he removed his hand. She glanced around, grateful that the car they were in was nearly empty. From where the others were sat no one would notice what was going on. He slipped his hand further underneath her skirt, pushing her knickers to the side before dragging the pad of his index finger along her slit.

Molly hissed again, but this time in reaction to his ministrations. The words on the page before her became blurred, she couldn't focus on what she was reading, only on what Sherlock's fingers were doing.

He spread her folds apart and slid one long digit into her wet core. He curled his finger ever so slightly before pulling it out, only to add another. She was breathing heavily now, fighting to keep down the moans that were struggling to escape from her throat.

"Sherlock!" she whimpered. He continued to slide his fingers slowly in and out of her. "OH!" He brushed his thumb across her clit.

He did it again, and again, then three more times until a great shudder went through her body. She leaned her head back, panting slightly as he pulled his hand away from her and brought his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean.

"You …" she gasped out, "are an utter arse!"

He still didn't look up from the tablet. She gave his arm a punch and he finally looked up.

"Hmmm? What?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Don't go all innocent on me Sherlock Holmes! What was that?"

He shrugged. "Didn't you enjoy it?"

The look she gave him was answer enough. He smiled cheekily at her.

"You are such a dirty man."

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. "You're no better."

She shivered slightly before sitting up straighter. "You better behave for the rest of this trip! And don't expect us to be shagging while we're at your parents."

He stared at her dumbfounded. "What?"

"Sherlock, I'm not having sex in your parents home and risking them hearing us. No, no and no. It's only for a few days. You and your libido will survive."

With a great huff he leaned back into the cushion, a very large pout upon his face. She rolled her eyes and returned to reading her book.

By the time they arrived in the Cotswolds, it was nearing late afternoon. Molly was glad to be off the train, and was almost willing to walk the rest of the way, until Sherlock told her that his parent's home was a thirty minute drive.

Upon getting a cab they settled in and made their way towards his childhood home. Sherlock pointed out different landmarks to her, telling her the things he had done when he was younger.

Molly watched him, noticing how different he looked to her; he almost appeared younger, a bit more at ease. In spite of the many times that he would go on about his great dislike for sentiment and caring, she knew that deep down he didn't believe a word. Sherlock Holmes was in fact one of the most sentimental, caring and loving people she had ever known. Yes, he could be an absolute dick at the best of times, but over the course of their being together she had discovered so much more about him. She hooked her arm through his and gave him a tender squeeze. He looked down at her and she smiled up at him.

"I think you're rather happy to be here," she noted.

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"Don't deny it. I know you are."

He humphed, only causing her to laugh.

When the car pulled up in front of the Holmes's residence, Molly felt her mouth drop open. It was a beautiful and adorable house. Painted a rather shocking shade of red, and yet it suited it. The house was settled in a slightly remote area, surrounded by several large fields.

Just as Sherlock stepped out of the cab the front door opened. Molly couldn't stop herself from smiling. John had been right, Sherlock's parents looked positively ordinary; they were nothing whatsoever like what she had imagined. She still didn't believe for a second that what Sherlock had told her about them was true though, they did not look boring.

"William!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, walking towards them.

Molly cast a sly glance towards him, knowing how much he despised being called by his first name. He was keeping his emotions in check though, only smiling pleasantly at his mother.

"Hello Mummy." He gave her a kiss upon the cheek and she did the same to him before wrapping her arms about him and giving him a hug.

Mr. Holmes was standing directly behind them, watching the pair, once she stepped away he moved forward. "Sherlock." He gave him a hug as well, a little bit less exuberant than his wife's.

"Mummy, Dad … this is Molly. Doctor Molly Hooper." Sherlock placed his hand upon the small of her back.

"Hello my dear!" Mrs. Holmes said to Molly. "I am so pleased to finally meet you! Please call me Marian." She gave Molly a tender hug. "This really should have taken place much sooner! If my son wasn't such an arse, leaving me to find out about you two through a newspaper article!" She ended her sentence with a well aimed glare towards Sherlock, and Molly had to fight back a smile.

His father stepped forward, giving her a welcoming hug. "I am happy to meet you as well, please call me Siger, everyone else does!"

With the introductions now complete they made their way into the house.

"You have a lovely home," Molly said to them, looking about her.

"Oh thank you, it has become rather large with our boys now all grown up and hardly ever here, but my husband and I can't bear to part with it," Marian answered, leading them into the front room where a fire was going. "The tea should be ready in a moment. Why don't you show her your room William?"

"Yes Mummy." Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her up the stairs that they had passed on their way in. Siger had already brought up their suitcases. They walked down a long hall, stopping when they came to the last door. Sherlock pushed it open and they stepped inside.

"Oh wow."

"Hmm?" Sherlock turned around and looked at her.

"Nothing … I just … I hadn't expected your room to look like this, that's all," she said.

His nose scrunched. "Yes, well … I've wanted to change it, but Mummy won't allow me to. Bit ridiculous really. She keeps it as if it's a museum display."

Molly laughed, walking over to a small bookshelf. "How come you don't bring these to Baker Street?" She ran her finger over the spine of  _Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates_.

Sherlock shrugged. "I read them countless times as a child, I don't have a need for them now."

She turned back around and faced him, noting that both of their suitcases were in there, "Your mum is all right with us staying in the same room?" she questioned.

He rolled his eyes. "My mother is not old-fashioned Molly."

She smiled and he stepped closer to her.

"You're parents are very nice Sherlock."

"Mmm, did I ever say that they weren't?"

She shook her head. "No."

Just as he was leaning down to kiss her, his mother's voice drifted up the stairs, calling out to to them, "William! Molly! The tea is ready!"

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. Molly stood on her tiptoes and gave him a chaste kiss before walking out of the bedroom, with him following. Once they were all settled in upon the sofa or in a chair, with a cup of tea in hand, the true conversation began.

"So, tell me Molly, what is your profession?" Marian asked her.

Molly took a sip of tea before answering. "I am a Specialist Registrar, a pathologist at St. Bart's Hospital in London."

"Ahhh, you work in the morgue. That must be rather dismal at times."

Molly was surprised by Marian's comment; rarely anyone ever knew what she was talking about when she mentioned the title of her profession.

"Yes, well ... sometimes it is rather upsetting," she admitted. "The worst is when I have to perform an autopsy on a child; usually the result of a car accident. I never enjoy those. But for the most part I find my job to be rather satisfying because I am able to help to give families closure about their loved ones."

Marian nodded in understanding. "Mikey tells me that you often aid William with his cases."

Molly was momentarily confused for a moment until she heard Sherlock mutter his brother's name under his breath.

"Oh Mycroft! Ummm ... well yes, if Sherlock needs access to a body in the morgue, or he needs time in the lab I've always been willing to help him."

"You're the only pathologist that's competent in the whole of St. Bart's," Sherlock chimed in.

Molly took a sip of tea before declaring, "I'm the only pathologist who is willing to put up with you!"

Siger chuckled, pleased to discover that his son had found a woman who knew how to keep him in his place.

"Did you grow up in London?" Marian asked.

Molly returned her attention to her. "No, I actually grew up in Reading. I didn't move to London until I started university."

"Do your parents still live in Reading?"

Molly bit down on her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She honestly didn't mind all of the questions Marian was throwing at her, it was just the fact that she hardly ever spoke about these things with anyone and that when she did it never got any easier. "Both my parents have passed on."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Molly held up her hand."No it's all right, you weren't to know. My mother died when I was very young, a car crash, but even before then we never quite got on. And my father got cancer a year before I started uni; he passed a month into my second term."

"Oh, how very sad."

Sherlock was watching Molly very closely, taking note of how upset she was, but also pleased by the fact that she was able to hold herself together.

"It was difficult," she continued. "I ended up dropping out of university, and spent the rest of the year backpacking throughout Europe."

Sherlock leaned back in shock. "I never knew that."

She turned a small smile upon him. "You can't deduce everything about me …"

Several beats of silence passed as they continued to look at each other. Marian cleared her throat, breaking apart their strong gaze.

"You did eventually go back to university though?" she questioned.

Molly finished her tea before answering. "Oh yes, my dad had left me a bit of money and I was able to use that to let a flat in London. I started back up in university shortly after I returned. I suppose it really does help having friends in high places; the head of the medical department was a former classmate of my father's. He was able to get me back in without too much trouble. And in spite of my late start, I was able to graduate a whole year earlier than most."

Marian smiled. "You're a determined young woman, I like that."

Sherlock was staring at Molly as if he had never seen her before.

A little while later, after the conversation took a rather nasty turn; at least in Sherlock's eyes (his mother had the audacity to ask how the two of them got together!), she left them to start making dinner. Molly had offered her help, but Marian insisted that she was a guest and that she should just relax. Siger settled down into a chair by the fire and was reading a book.

"How about a walk?" Sherlock asked her.

"Fresh air sounds perfect."

After donning their coats he led her out the back door, both of them desperately trying to ignore the fact that his mother was visibly watching them through the window. The sun had long ago set, but the moon was rising, giving them enough light to see by. Molly hooked her arm through Sherlock's while they walked out towards the field.

"How come you never told me about your backpacking trip?" His voice broke through the silence. It was incredibly quiet out there.

Molly gave a slight shrug. "I don't know. Perhaps because I don't think about it often … I try not to."

Sherlock stopped walking and faced her. "Something happened, during your time away."

She dropped her gaze to the ground, removing her arm from his and tucking both of her hands into her coat pockets.

"Molly …?"

He stepped closer when she didn't answer. He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head so that she had no choice but to look at him. Tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes.

"Molly, what happened?"

She blinked a few times, the tears now falling down her cheeks. "It was while I was in Spain, staying at a hostel. I was attacked by another traveler. He tried to rape me … but he didn't succeed. I fought him off."

Sherlock's hand on her chin tightened slightly. "Did you go to the police?"

She shook her head, "No. I was too scared. I know I should have, but I didn't."

Suddenly Sherlock's arms were around her and he was holding her close. She buried her face into the lapels of his coat. He held her quietly for a few minutes.

"Do you think you would be able to describe the man?" he asked.

Molly shook her head. "Sherlock, it was years ago … I've practically deleted the memory … I have no idea what he looked like. I'm sorry."

He pulled her back slightly so that he could look down at her. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that that had to happen to you." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They continued on their walk, deciding not to go too much farther. When they returned to the house dinner was ready. Conversation flowed comfortably during the meal. Marian and Siger shared several stories of Sherlock growing up, much to his chagrin. They also told a few about Mycroft (Sherlock rather enjoyed that), and some about Sherrinford as well. Molly told them that she had met him during his recent visit, and they began to discuss his mathematical accomplishments as well as Marian's.

She got up from the table to retrieve the book she had written. "It's been ages since I've had a good look at this, but perhaps you'd like to see it." She handed Molly a book titled,  _The Dynamics of Combustion_.

Molly couldn't help but smile as she looked it over. "This is amazing!"

Later that evening Molly and Sherlock were sat on the sofa in front of the fire; her head leaning on his shoulder. His parent's had gone to bed a little while ago. All was quiet around them.

"You're parent's home is beautiful Sherlock. I can see why they wouldn't want to ever sell it." She was still finishing off her wine from dinner.

"Mmm..."

Molly leaned forward and placed her now empty wine glass on the coffee table. The dying fire was casting strange shadows on the walls. She settled back into the cushions, Sherlock's arm curling around her shoulders once more.

"Are you falling asleep?" she asked him in a teasing tone.

"Nooooo!" His answer would have been more convincing if it hadn't ended in a yawn.

She giggled then gave his shirt a tug. "Let's go to bed." She stood.

His eyes perked up at the mention of bed. Molly caught on to his thought process straight away.

"To sleep Sherlock, not to shag," she stated.

He pouted.

"Not in your parents home!" she hissed.

His pout increased.

"You're ridiculous." She would have swatted at his head with a pillow if there had been one handy.

"If you weren't so loud, we could easily get away with it," he expressed this as if it were the most matter of fact thing in the world.

She placed her hands on her hips, giving him a look that told him that was Not Good. "You make just as much noise as I do!" she declared. "You're the most vocal man I've ever been with." She held up her hand just as he opened his mouth. "Keep that comment to yourself, or you will be sleeping on the sofa."

Molly hadn't thought it was possible but his pout intensified. Rolling her eyes she turned away from him, grabbed up her wine glass and carried it into the kitchen. When she returned he was still on the sofa with his arms crossed, and still pouting.

"Are you coming to bed or not?" she asked.

He shrugged. "What's the point? You obviously don't want me anymore."

"Sherlock! Stop that right now! You know that isn't true!"

His mouth twitched slightly.

"Please come to bed. I'd rather not sleep alone."

With a great dramatic huff he pushed himself up from the sofa and followed her out of the room and up the stairs. Once they were in his bedroom, with the door closed behind them, she gave him a nudge towards the bed.

"I'd suck you off, but since you're being such a tit, I don't think I will. Plus the fact that you're just as loud when I do that as you are during sex."

He grumbled this time instead of pouting. She stepped away from him and proceeded to put on her pyjamas. Once she was done she turned back around only to find him sat on the edge of the bed, having not gotten changed. She walked over to him, placing herself in-between his legs. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"How about a snog?" she asked him.

He moved his arms until they were about her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Molly, every time we kiss it leads to sex."

"Mmmm ... that is true." She placed a chaste peck upon his mouth, then suddenly smiled widely. "I think I have an idea."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what is this idea?"

Leaning further forward she whispered into his ear. He made a noise of understanding. She nipped at his earlobe, giggling softly.

"Is that a yes? Do you agree?" she asked.

His reply was to grab a hold of her tightly and push her down upon the bed. Her laughter grew louder before he silenced her with a kiss.

"You need to get out of your clothes in order for this to work," she whispered breathlessly to him.

He pushed himself up and off the bed, removing clothes with rapid speed, before returning to her, now entirely naked. She smiled up at him, her hand slipping down his bare chest, and over his stomach, just stopping when it reached his patch of wiry hair.

"Shouldn't you take yours off as well?" he questioned.

She lifted up her hips and slipped off her pyjama bottoms. "I'm not taking my top off."

Before he could pout she stopped it with a glare.

"You're lucky we're doing even this," she told him firmly.

They stared at each other for a few beats, neither one of them saying anything.

"Try not to uhh ... get anything on the sheets?" Molly blushed while she said this to him.

He rolled his eyes. "My mother wasn't born yesterday, Molly ... I am certain she knows we are in a sexual relationship. There's nothing to be so embarrassed about."

"Maybe for you there isn't, but for me there is," she noted.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "This is another one of those things I won't ever understand ... isn't it?"

"Yes."

He sighed, placing his hand on her abdomen. "There is so much about Human Nature that will always be a mystery to me." His hand slowly moved downwards, stopping when his fingertips brushed against her curls. "However ... the results of my touching you  _here_..." he paused just as his middle finger slid in between her folds and pressed directly against her clit, "will never cease to fascinate me."

Molly's eyes dropped closed, her lips parting. She started to breathe heavily, gripping onto the bed sheet with her hand. She moaned softly and Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her. He slipped his hand a bit further down in order to slide two of his fingers inside of her; she was already so very wet for him. He brushed his thumb over her clit. She moaned again into his mouth and he deepened their kiss.

Releasing the bed sheet from her grip she brought her hand to his fully hard cock and began to stroke him with her fingers. He bucked his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing up against her hip. She wrapped her hand around him, pumping in rhythm to the movements of his fingers inside of her. They silenced each other with kisses, barely allowing themselves to part for breath in fear that one or the other would moan too loudly.

"Oh God!" she panted against his lips. He curved his fingers inside of her and pressed his thumb down hard against her clit.

Her orgasm hit her full force and he kissed her, silencing what would have been a rather loud moan. With a few more final pumps of her hand he came as well, emptying himself onto her abdomen, groaning as quietly as he could against her lips.

The pair of them lay back against the pillows, panting. After a few minutes Molly sat up and grabbed the box of nearby tissues. She wiped herself clean before handing him the box. He did so as well, then deposited the box and dirty tissues on the floor before grabbing up the blanket and pulling it over them.

"Better?" she asked him, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

"Mmm ... somewhat."

She snuggled into his chest. "I'll make it up to you when we get home."

He put his arm around her. "I'll hold you to that."

She laughed quietly before nipping at his skin with her teeth.

* * *

Sherlock woke the next morning with Molly curled up with her back against him. He knew she was awake by the pattern of her breathing. He kissed her bare shoulder, noting that she had put on her pyjama bottoms. He was a bit annoyed when his own naked skin met fabric. These were going to be three very long days.

"I rather like your room. It's very you," she said suddenly, her voice husky with sleep.

He let out a sniff. "Not entirely. This is a room of a young boy, not a man."

She laughed softly. "The pirate theme is quite adorable."

He growled into her neck, only making her laugh again.

"Is Mycroft's filled with pictures of the Queen? And does Sherrinford have mathematical equations on the wall?"

Sherlock let out a snort. "I wouldn't know, I was never allowed in either of their rooms."

Molly turned over so that she could face him. "Was it difficult, growing up with them? I have no idea what's it really like to have siblings, let alone a twin."

He shrugged. "We all teased each other incessantly. But for many years we were the only companions that we had. My mother kept us separated from other children until we were a bit older. Ghastly idea that was."

Molly laughed again.

After taking showers, separately (much to Sherlock's disappointment), they made their way downstairs to find Marian cooking breakfast for them.

"You really don't need to go through so much trouble Mummy," Sherlock stated firmly, settling himself down at the table.

Marian spun about and placed on the table a plate of freshly baked scones. "You hardly ever visit, I like to spoil you while I can William!" She gave the top of his head a peck. "Did you two sleep well?"

A faint blush came to Molly's cheeks. "Yes. Slept perfectly."

"Any plans for today?" Marian asked, not noticing Molly's flushed face. "You should take Molly into the village, William, show her around! I'm sure she'd enjoy that."

Sherlock looked less than pleased by this suggestion but when he saw Molly's hopeful look he gave in. A little while later the pair of them were in his parent's car driving towards the village.

"There's really not much to see here," Sherlock told her as they got out of the car. "I could though show you where I found Billy the skull."

Molly eyed him for a moment. "Found or stole?"

He had the decency to look affronted. "I am not a grave robber, the tomb was already damaged, I merely was curious."

"Alas, poor Yorick!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. Sherlock shook his head before leading her towards the church cemetery.

They returned later that afternoon to the house, after having perused the cemetery for some time and walked about the village. Much to Molly's surprise none of the villagers recognized Sherlock. He explained to her that it had been years since he had visited, minus that one Christmas when the whole Magnussen event took place, and that he looked rather different when he was a child.

Marian had tea ready for them upon their return and Molly was glad for this, for it had been rather chilly outside. Sherlock left the pair of them to go and speak with his father.

Marian took a sip of her tea before saying. "I didn't want to mention this in front of him … but ahh … Mike told us that you played a part in the faking of William's death."

Molly felt herself blush. "I – yeah I did."

Marian placed her hand on top of Molly's. "That must have been very difficult for you, dear."

"It wasn't easy," Molly admitted. "But I did it willingly, I wanted to help him. I never believed for a second that he was a fraud. I always believed in him."

Marian gave her hand a gentle pat then leaned back into her chair. "If we had known about you, we would have had you come and stay here with us. I'm sure that would have been a great comfort."

Molly smiled. "Thank you. At first it was very hard being the only one amongst Sherlock's acquaintances to know the truth, but Mycroft took good care of me. He kept me updated on Sherlock's whereabouts, how he was doing. He was incredibly kind to me during that time; he took me to tea every Saturday."

"I raised my boys to be proper gentlemen!" Marian stated firmly. "Don't entirely know what went wrong though … I know they are a bit odd."

Molly laughed quietly. "I wouldn't want them any other way."

Marian smiled. "Ahhh yes, I can see why William loves you."

Molly blushed again.

"Would you like to see pictures of him as a child?"

Molly's eyes lit up with delight. "Oh yes please!"

Marian got up from her chair and retrieved a large photo album from the bookshelf. "It will probably be easiest if we both move to the sofa, this album opens quite wide!"

Molly sat beside her, excited to see pictures of little Sherlock.

"He'll probably never forgive me for showing you these," Marian admitted. "But I don't entirely care."

Molly let out a giggle. They made their way through the album and Molly's amusement grew, Marian often joining in with her. It was quite possible that Sherlock had been the most adorably lanky and awkward child that Molly had ever seen. There were multitudes of photos of him dressed as a pirate, and when Marian revealed that for an entire year he refused to wear normal clothes, Molly roared with laughter.

"Are you two torturing owls?" Sherlock queried as he walked into the room.

Molly clamped her hand over her mouth in endeavor to stifle her giggles, but failed miserably. He narrowed his eyes at her then walked over to them.

"MUMMY!" he exclaimed, looking positively mortified as he stared down at the album spread across their laps.

"Oh don't Sherlock, I wanted to see them," Molly explained.

Sherlock blushing was not a common sight, but he was doing so now. With a sharp turn he stormed from the room.

"Oh dear," Molly murmured.

Marian closed the album.

"I best go and speak with him," Molly said, "or he'll be in a strop for the rest of the evening." She stood and hurried upstairs.

When she entered his room she saw that he was curled up on his bed, her back to her. She closed the door behind her and climbed onto the bed.

"Sherlock stop sulking." She gave his shoulder a tug and he rolled onto his back.

"I am not sulking," he stated firmly.

She straddled his stomach and his hands automatically came to rest upon her hips. She planted her palms on either side of his head so that she could lean down directly over him.

"You're embarrassed though," she said.

He gave an indignant sniff. "I am not."

"Fibbing," she sang out to him.

He glowered at her and she smiled.

"You were rather cute when you were little," she said, reaching up with one hand to brush his curls back from his forehead.

He rolled his eyes.

"I love the pirate costume," she smiled widely as she said this. "Would you object to my getting one of my own? I think I might make a decent pirate wench."

Sherlock's eyes widened at the thought.

"Is that an 'aye aye matey!'?" she asked in a teasing tone.

He couldn't help but smile. She dipped her head down and gave the side of his neck a gentle suckle, her nose brushing against his ear.

"Just keep that in mind …," she murmured against his skin, "for when we get home."

His hands on her hips tightened slightly and she snickered.

"I may have to clap you in irons for that one!" he growled.

She let out a shriek when he quickly shifted their bodies so that she was now lying beneath him."Will you make me swab your deck?" she inquired, giving a sly glance downwards at the prominent bulge in his trousers.

He smirked. "Sexual innuendos and pirate dialogue? Interesting combination."

She hooked a leg up over the back of his. "Don't deny that you're not enjoying this."

A low snarl erupted from his throat. "I would be enjoying it more if it would actually lead to us shagging!"

Molly let out a slow sigh. "It's just one more day Sherlock … I think you'll survive."

He leaned down closer to her. "Will you? I know what you did in the shower this morning."

She gave the back of his head a good swat. Suddenly the look on his face became contemplative.

"I never knew about you and Mycroft," he confessed.

Molly's brows furrowed. "Mycroft and I? What do you mean?"

"That he … took care of you, while I was gone," he explained. "I never knew."

"Oh, that, the tea. Yeah. It was nice."

Sherlock looked slightly hurt.

Molly moved her hands up to his neck, tugging him slightly so that he looked down at her. "Don't you know that when you listen in on a conversation, you usually learn things that you wish you hadn't?"

He made a face. "It just surprised me, that's all. Didn't think Mycroft had it in him."

She let out a snort. "You don't know your brother as well as you think you do."

Sherlock let out a snort of his own.

"He made it easier for me," she said, "those two years that you were away."

Sherlock kissed her. "I suppose I have to be grateful to him for that."

* * *

Molly's visit with the Holmes's proved to be a very relaxing and quiet time. It was nice to get away for a bit from the noise and constant bustle of London. Shockingly enough Sherlock managed to be fairly well-behaved during their stay. She expected him to be itching for a case, positively bored by the thought of doing nothing, but instead she had never seen him so relaxed. Minus the bit about the lack of shagging. He wouldn't let up on that.

On their final night there, Molly insisted on helping Marian cook dinner, for she had made them every single day a home-cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. If this was at all a hint of what it was like to have a mother, Molly had to confess that the thought saddened her. It would have been nice to have grown up in such a loving environment like this. Her father had been wonderful, but it was not the same as having a motherly influence around.

Throughout the meal Siger amused them with tales about his own childhood. Molly watched both of Sherlock's parents during the meal took note of the fact that he resembled both his parents quite a lot. He seemed to be under the impression that he didn't at all, but she wasn't so easily fooled.

After dinner, both Marian and Siger declared that Molly could not help whatsoever in the cleaning up process. They shooed both her and Sherlock into the front room. He grabbed the game _Operation_ off of the shelf and Molly settled herself down onto one of the chairs. Sherlock sat down across from her.

"Looking forward to being back in London?" she asked him as he set up the game.

"Yes. I'm sure the Yard has made an appalling mess of things while I have been gone," he answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if Lestrade has a multitude of cases for me!"

She couldn't help but chuckle.

"Are you?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yes. I miss Baker Street. And Toby."

"Mmm … Baker Street. Don't expect to return to work on Tuesday," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes "I intend on keeping you in our bed until at least Wednesday."

"Sherlock!" she hissed, kicking at his shin with her foot.

The doorbell rang but both of them ignored it, knowing that Marian would answer it. Molly shook her head at him, and was about to say something when she heard Marian open the front door, followed by a woman saying:

"Terribly sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but I was wondering, is Sherlock Holmes here? The Consulting Detective?"

Sherlock straightened, looking intrigued. Molly looked over her shoulder, watching Marian open the door wider, revealing a young woman.

"Yes. He is my son," Marian replied. "He is here for a visit. Do you need his help?"

The young woman was suddenly on the verge of tears. "Yes. I do, I terribly do!"

Marian beckoned her inside and led her into the front room, Sherlock was already on his feet.

"William dear, this young lady is in need of your detective abilities," Marian explained to him, beckoning to the young woman to have a seat upon the sofa.

Sherlock sat back down and straightened his posture before steepling his fingers, waiting for her to speak. Molly offered her the box of tissues, and the young woman took a tissue and blew her nose.

"I would have come earlier today if I had the chance," she said to Sherlock. "But my employer needed me longer tonight." She hiccupped slightly as she spoke.

"And it is about your employer that you came to me, is it not?" Sherlock asked.

She nodded, looking up at him. "Yes. My employer is Mr. Rucastle. I am the nanny to his son; the boy's mother died years ago giving birth to him. I've been the nanny for nearly a year now but I only just recently moved into his house, I used to live in the village. Something is not right about that place; something is terribly, terribly wrong. His son, Jeremy, used to be an absolute angel for me; I never had any real difficulty with him. But ever since I started living there his entire personality has changed."

"You don't think it is simply because you are there, at his beck and call, twenty-four-seven?" Sherlock queried.

She shook her head. "No. He's told me things, awful things. He's said that he sees a woman at night that walks the halls, dressed all in white. That she whispers to him, tells him to do things, horrible things. I once found him with a little bird, he had broken its neck. When I asked him why he did it, he told me that she had asked him to do it."

"How old is Jeremy?" Sherlock enquired.

"Six."

Sherlock pressed the tips of his steepled fingers to his mouth. "Hmm... have you ever told him ghost stories? Allowed him to watch scary films?"

"NO! Not at all!" she exclaimed. "He's far too young for any of that."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Why do you think that there is something wrong with the house?"

She sniffled again and wiped at her nose. "It's a very old house, at least a hundred if not two hundred years old. It has been in my employer's family for ages apparently. There are sections of it that have been closed off to help bring down the expense of heating, and Jeremy told me that one of the sections of the house that is closed off is where the woman comes from. I tried to investigate, but before I could even get near the area Mr. Rucastle had come upon me and made me swear to him that I would never go near there again. I wouldn't have exactly thought much of it, except for the way he reacted. There was fear in his eyes, a sight that I have not once ever seen before.

"Mr. Holmes, I know that Jeremy is only a child, and that children have the tendency to enjoy making up stories, but I also know that he is extremely intelligent for his age. I don't know if what he has told me is entirely true, but I can't bring myself to not believe him. I have no choice but to believe him because … I've seen her too."

The room grew silent.

"Miss …?" Sherlock questioned.

"Violet, Violet Hunter," she replied. "I'm sorry; I forgot I hadn't told you my name."

Sherlock continued, "Miss Hunter, I do not believe in ghosts. They do not exist. I am certain that there is an entirely logical explanation for all of this."

"Oh please do not think that I believe this woman to be a ghost!" Violet exclaimed.

"Do you not?"

"No, not at all," she declared. "I am quite certain this woman is very real and that she is being held captive somewhere within that house. Some sort of mad woman perhaps! Will you not help me Mr. Holmes? I fear for Jeremy's safety."

Sherlock was silent for a moment then suddenly his eyes filled with glee. "Yes, Miss Hunter! I will help you!"

She left a few minutes later, declining Marian's offer of tea. The room grew quiet. Molly watched Sherlock, well aware that he was delving into his Mind Palace. Suddenly he stood up and moved in front of the fire.

"You don't object to extending our visit for a bit longer, do you Molly?" he asked her suddenly.

"What? No … Mike told me that I could take off as much time as I wanted," she said.

"Mmm … good, for I believe that I've got a case!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … the idea for this case comes from an actual Sherlock Holmes story – The Adventure of the Copper Beeches. There will be similarities but I am going to add my own twist to it ;)
> 
> That naughty scene in the train in the beginning was inspired by a part in a film with Emmy Rossum, never actually seen it (and I don’t know what the movie is called!), I just came across gifs from it on tumblr one time. 
> 
> Didn’t exactly intend for this to be such a long chapter, but ahh well!
> 
> Be sure to leave a review! I really do love them :D


	16. I've Got a Case!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a case! :D
> 
> I actually decided to call this chapter "I've Got a Case" as a little nod towards my text tone, it's Benedict (as Sherlock) saying, "I've got a text!" 
> 
> ***  
> Spoiler warning: There are aspects of the novel Jane Eyre mentioned in this chapter. So if you haven’t read the book, and you intend to… errr sorry?  
> ***

* * *

"… I've got a case!" Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet, looking far too excited.

"I thought you only got this cheerful about murders." Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He spun about, facing her. "Yes, well at this point I'll happily take anything."

She shook her head. "Bit of an odd story that woman had. What do you make of it?"

Sherlock put his hands palm to palm. "I found it fascinating. There's always an explanation for everything. There will be an explanation for this."

Molly fought back a yawn. "I suppose  _Operation_  is out of the question now?"

"Mmm, yes, I need my laptop."

With that said he left the room. Molly stood there for a moment, glad that Violet Hunter hadn't come to Sherlock for help any sooner. Letting out a resigned sigh she left the room as well to go and take a shower.

A little while later she returned to the bedroom, toweling her wet hair. Sherlock was sat upon the bed, his legs stretched out with his laptop on top of them.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmmm?" He didn't look up from the screen, continuing to type.

"What Miss Hunter told you … there are a few similarities to the story of  _Jane Eyre_."

He glanced up at her. "The novel?"

She climbed onto the bed, hugging her dressing gown tightly around her. "Mhmm. In the book Jane becomes governess to a young girl, and her employer, Mr. Rochester, has his insane wife locked up in the attic. The mad woman escapes all the time and wanders the house and eventually manages to burn it down. I don't know, I just couldn't stop thinking about it the entire time Violet was speaking."

Sherlock returned his gaze to his computer screen. "Interesting. You were reading the book on the train, weren't you?"

"Yes!" Molly reached behind her and grabbed the novel from off the nightstand and handed it to him. "Do you think it's Mr. Rucastle's wife that is locked away?"

"Doesn't entirely seem logical. Violet told us that the mother died in childbirth. And if she didn't, and she is insane, like in the book, why wouldn't he just place her in an institution?" Sherlock was flipping through the book as he spoke.

Molly shrugged. "I'm sure those places are expensive."

Sherlock was still looking through the book, stopping every now and then. "Not likely the reason. The man is a millionaire."

"You don't think this is all some sort of farce, do you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. I would have been able to tell if she was lying, she wasn't."

Molly leaned back into the pillow, resting her head on her arm. She was watching him, holding back the longing to reach out and draw her fingertip along the outline of his profile. Suddenly he turned his head and his eyes met hers.

"Will you help me with this case?"

She smiled. "Of course."

He returned her smile. "Good." He handed the book back. "I'll need you to gather any information in here that relates to what Violet told us."

Molly sat u., "You think there may be a connection?"

"I don't know. It's possible. People have been obsessed with stories before. Perhaps this Rucastle is just an eccentric who wants to live in his own Brontë novel!"

"Good God," she muttered.

"Don't worry about doing any of that tonight. "Sherlock gestured to the book still in her hands. "I know you'll want to sleep."

She gave him a lopsided smirk. "None for you though?"

"Most likely, no."

She shook her head. "Don't you dare call Lestrade until tomorrow morning!"

"Molly!" He sounded like a petulant child.

"The search through their database can wait one night," she said firmly.

Sherlock slumped back into his pillow, glaring at his laptop screen. With another shake of her head she pushed herself up off the mattress and put on her pyjamas. By the time she returned to the bed Sherlock was once more tapping away on his laptop.

* * *

Molly woke up the next morning to the sound of Sherlock spouting expletives. Not accustomed to hearing him curse all that often she sat up quickly and gave him a questioning look.

"Sorry for waking you." He ran his hands through his curls, ruffling them. "I'm just frustrated!"

"What's the matter?"

"Lestrade did a full background check on Rucastle," he explained. "And he came back with nothing. The man has a perfectly clean record."

Sherlock began pacing about the room.

"Did you expect him to find something?" Molly wiped the sleep from her eyes as she asked this.

"No. Not exactly. Most rich men are able to keep anything injurious to their status hushed up, hidden away, tucked under the rug."

She bit back a laugh. Sherlock was gesturing wildly and he looked slightly ridiculous. His curls were mussed from him running his hands through them, making him look like a mad scientist.

"Where did his money come from? How did he get so rich?" she questioned.

"Family inheritance. His great-great-grandfather was the first mayor of the town. He built this place up basically." Sherlock was still pacing.

"Have you had Lestrade look up a background on the wife?"

Sherlock grew still. "No-ooo."

"Perhaps you should!" Molly slipped out from under the sheets and moved to stand up, but she was unceremoniously shoved back down to the bed when Sherlock pounced upon her and very nearly snogged the breath out of her. When they at last parted she let out a laugh. "Well … good morning to you too!"

He kissed her again. "I always miss something. Why didn't I think of the wife?"

She laughed again. "I don't know."

He pushed himself up off the bed and grabbed up his phone and began to text. Molly quickly changed out of her pyjamas and into a button-up shirt, covering it with a jumper and pair of black trousers.

"I suppose you won't be coming downstairs for breakfast?" she asked him, he was still tapping away at his phone.

"Mmm … I can come and sit with you, if you like, I won't eat though."

She put her hands upon her hips. "Sherlock! Remember what I asked of you."

He glanced up from his phone. "Fine. One scone."

She flashed him a triumphant smile before walking out of the room.

Sometime later Sherlock was in the front room with a roaring fire going. He had his laptop open in front of him and was perusing through the files that Lestrade had sent him. Molly was sat beside him going through the book and taking down the notes he had asked for. It would have been easier to go on the internet and copy and paste, but Molly didn't mind writing them down by hand.

"Impossible," Sherlock suddenly muttered.

"Hmm?" Molly looked up from what she was doing.

"An autopsy was never performed on Mrs. Rucastle after her death. Rucastle didn't allow it. She died at the house; he wanted her buried straight away. At least according to the notes that this doctor wrote."

Molly leaned forward, looking at the laptop screen. "No autopsy? That's extremely odd."

Sherlock leaned back into the sofa, pressing his hands palm to palm; Mind Palace mode. Shaking her head she returned to the book and continued to take down notes. Some minutes later the sound of his text tone broke through the silence. He roused from his Mind Palace and took up his phone.

"It's Lestrade. He found more information about Rucastle's wife. Her maiden name was Harolde, Alice Harolde. Her father was Lord Chancellor in the House of Commons. Hmmm … so she comes from money as well." He sat up and began to tap away at his laptop. "Well, their marriage attracted quite a bit of publicity!" Sherlock turned his computer slightly so that Molly could see the multiple newspaper articles he had brought up. All of them were about the Rucastle/Harolde alliance.

"I suppose Rucastle had a thing for politics?" she asked. "Since his great-great-grandfather had been mayor … did anyone else in his family ever pursue that?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. His great-grandfather, than his son, which was Rucastle's father."

"Sooo … does that mean Rucastle is mayor?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, he's not. Apparently he doesn't have a head for politics. But they let him keep the house. There has to be  _something_."

"Drug smuggling?" she suggested.

Sherlock peered at her from the corner of his eyes, casting towards her a weary look. "This is the Cotswolds Molly."

She giggled. "Mmm true. Just a suggestion!"

The both fell silent for a time. She closed the book and looked over what she had written down. "Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Didn't Violet mention that sections of the house were closed off?"

He shifted slightly. "Yes she did."

"If Rucastle has so much money, why would he need to do that?"

Sherlock shrugged. "What's the point of spending money uselessly when there is a way to avoid it? A lot of people do that with old houses."

She leaned back into the sofa, stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Perhaps it's not closed off at all. Perhaps he turned it into an entire private section, just for this woman. And perhaps sometimes she manages to enter into the other part of the house."

Sherlock looked up from his laptop, staring ahead. She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.

"Molly, you're brilliant."

She felt herself blush. "Well ahhh …"

"That is entirely possible. The house is massive, have a look at it." He returned his gaze to the laptop, typed a few words into a search engine and the Rucastle home popped up on the screen.

Her mouth dropped open. "Wow."

The house was enormous. And was most definitely more a mansion than a mere house.

"How many rooms does it have?" she asked.

"The website says fifteen. It used to be open to the public for tours. But that came to an end …" He paused, leaning closer to the screen reading the words; he then turned to Molly, their eyes meeting. "That ended six years ago."

She swallowed thickly before saying, "Violet said that Jeremy was six years old, didn't she?"

Sherlock nodded. "I think Violet was correct. There is something not right about this house."

Later that evening Violet returned for another visit. There were scratch marks upon her face, and she appeared to be more nervous than she was the last time. Molly was filled with concern for her.

"Violet, I hope you don't mind me asking … I really don't want to be rude, but what happened to you?" she asked.

The young woman's eyes filled with tears. "Jeremy had the most awful fit this morning. I've never seen him act like that before. He started screaming and hitting me with his little fists. When I tried to pick him up to comfort him he slapped my cheek, dragging his nails into my skin. He's become so violent. And whenever I mention it to Mr. Rucastle he just chuckles and tells me that he's just being a typical boy. That is not true. I have been a nanny to several boys, all around the same age and they never acted like that!"

Sherlock's hands were palm to palm, the tips of his fingers leaning against his mouth. "Do you know if Mr. Rucastle had anyone else in his employ prior to you? Surely he must have, a single father with a young son, I highly doubt that he is aware of how to take care of a child."

Violet nodded. "Yes, he did. An old woman, she had been with the family for many years, raised Mr. Rucastle in fact. But she died, just last year, shortly before I began to work for him."

"Damn," Sherlock muttered beneath his breath. "Does he employ servants?"

"Sherlock! This is modern times! No one has servants!" Molly exclaimed.

He ignored her comment, waiting for Violet's reply.

"Yes, in a way. He has a cook, and a woman that cleans the house, and a gardener. That's it."

He thought for a moment. "Do they live in the house, or in the village?"

"In the house," she replied.

"Why did you move into the house, and not stay in the village?" he questioned.

"I couldn't afford it anymore, and when Mr. Rucastle discovered my money troubles he offered for me to come and live at the house. I didn't accept him right away, I thought about it long and hard, but I didn't know what else to do. So I moved in."

"How did Mr. Rucastle come about hiring you?" Sherlock leaned forward slightly as he asked this question.

"Through a nanny agency," she explained.

"Hmmm … were you the only nanny he interviewed?"

She nodded. "I think so, yes."

"Were there ever any rumors, gossip about the Rucastle family?"

Violet thought for a moment. "No, not that I can recall. I only moved to this village a year and a half ago. I wanted somewhere nice and quiet, a bit laid back. I used to live in London, but I grew tired of the hustle and bustle."

Sherlock moved his hands to the tops of his legs, drumming his fingertips upon the fabric of his trousers."When was it that you saw this woman, dressed all in white?"

"About three weeks ago," Violet replied. "There was a storm. Jeremy hates storms; he's terrified of the thunder. I had gone into his room to stay with him until it passed. When he was finally asleep I left his room and was returning to mine. The hallway was completely dark, except for the faint light from outside. I was walking when suddenly I heard a noise, it sounded like footsteps. I stopped, thinking that perhaps it was Mr. Rucastle. But when I looked behind me I saw that it was not him, but a woman. A woman dressed entirely in white. She almost appeared to be glowing, it was so strange. I froze; I didn't know what to do. She was looking at me, studying me. Then suddenly she raised her hands, like this-" Violet paused to demonstrate, stretching out her arms with her palms facing upwards, "-And she said to me, 'Have you come to save me? Have you come to take me away?'" Violet dropped her arms, her hands in her lap. "If Jeremy hadn't told me about her, I would have thought that I was dreaming; that I had fallen asleep beside him, but I knew that I wasn't dreaming. I knew that this woman before me was very real. I moved to approach her, but there was a sudden noise down at the opposite end of the hall. When I turned to see what had made the sound she let out a great shriek and disappeared into the shadows. I never saw her again."

Sherlock placed his hands palm to palm once more. "Violet, are there any photographs of Mrs. Rucastle around the house?"

"Yes, there are quite a few."

"Did this woman in white look anything like her?"

Violet shook her head. "I'm not certain, I don't think so. I couldn't quite make out her face, it was so dark. Do you think this woman is Mr. Rucastle's wife? But she's dead!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I've come to discover that those who die are not always dead."

Violet gave him a questioning look and Molly had to hide a smile behind her hand.

"Does Mr. Rucastle pay you well?" Sherlock inquired.

"Yes, very well."

"Has he ever been late in paying you?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

"No. Never."

"Hmmm… so he has never appeared to have money troubles?"

Violet gave another shake of her head."No. Not that I ever noticed. There's always an abundance of food and Jeremy is always having new clothes delivered, and toys."

Sherlock pressed the tips of his fingers to his mouth again. "Does Mr. Rucastle have a library?"

Violet's eyes lit up and she gushed. "Oh yes! An incredibly extensive one! It's beautiful!"

"What sort of books does he own?"

The nervous look was gone from her face, it was clear that she had entered into her element. Violet Hunter was most certainly a bibliophile.

"I always go in there when Jeremy is taking a nap. Mr. Rucastle told me when I first moved in that I could read whatever I liked. It's positively heaven in there!"

"Yes, but what are the books that he has?" Sherlock asked, reigning in his impatience.

"Oh all sorts, he owns a large variety. And a lot of them are very old. Antiques by the look of them."

"Anything by the Brontë sisters?"

"Yes! He has a rather large collection of them, a few editions of  _Wuthering Heights_ , and one or two by Anne, but the majority are of  _Jane Eyre_. I've never seen so many different editions of one book. Combined they probably are all worth a small fortune, I wouldn't doubt it. Why do you ask?"

Sherlock shared a look with Molly before saying. "Have you ever read it,  _Jane Eyre_?"

"Yes, it's one of my favourite novels."

"Do you think there are any similarities to your current situation, to that of the situation in the book?"

Violet's eyes grew massive. "NO! It can't be! You believe that Mr. Rucastle has his wife shut up in the house? That she's insane, like Mrs. Rochester?"

"It's entirely possible."

Violet grew pale. "That's horrible! Why would he do that?"

"That is what I am determined to find out."

* * *

Molly was suddenly roused from her sleep by Sherlock shaking her shoulder. "Sher-what?"

"I need to ask you something."

She rubbed her hands over her face before looking at the clock. "It's 4 a.m.! You couldn't wait until morning?"

"It is morning," he deadpanned.

The glare she fixed upon him would have made a lesser man run for cover.

"What is your question?" she asked.

"Bertha Mason, she was married to Rochester for her money, was she not?"

She dropped tugged the covers to her chin. "Yes. Rochester hardly ever saw her before the wedding; he was never really left alone with her."

"Because she was insane?"

"Yes. He didn't discover this until after they were married though."

"Hmmm…" Sherlock moved the tip of his finger across his bottom lip.

"Do you think that's what happened with Rucastle?" she questioned sleepily. "That Alice Harolde is insane, and he didn't know this until after they were married?"

"Yes. Once they were married they were never in the public eye again. There were never any public appearances; they were hardly ever discussed in the papers. When her father died, he left her all of his money. She was his only child, and his wife had passed several years earlier."

Molly scrubbed at her eyes, yawning."So why not just have her placed in an institution?"

"To avoid scandal! The media would have pounced on it," he spoke this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"All right, that does make sense. But why fake her death?"

Sherlock tapped his finger on his bottom lip. "The money. Her father's money."

"Rucastle faked his wife's death to get her money?"

"Yes."

"That's horrible."

He made a noise of agreement. "Rucastle must have needed her money."

"But I thought you said he was a millionaire."

"Mmm,  _was_. Perhaps he isn't anymore. He may have lost all of his money somehow. Must look into that."

Molly smiled at him, then reached up and ruffled his hair. "My busy little bee!"

Sherlock grimaced slightly but allowed her to pull him down to the mattress.

"Stay with me? At least until I fall back to sleep? I miss your warmth." She put her arms around his neck.

He nodded and put own arms about her, holding her close. She kissed him gently before snuggling up against him. He stayed beside her, delving into his Mind Palace while she slept in his arms.

As soon as the sun rose he slipped out of the bed and went to take a shower. By the time Molly woke he was downstairs sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his laptop. He offered her a plate of scones when she walked over to him. She planted a kiss upon his forehead and sat down beside him.

"Where are your mum and dad?" she asked.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Dad went out for a walk, and mummy is somewhere about the house. Actually, I need to talk to her, MUMMY!"

Molly grimaced slightly, taking note that he often yelled for Mrs. Hudson the same way.

"Yes, William? What is it?" Marian questioned, walking into the kitchen.

"The Rucastle's. What do you know about them?" he asked.

She gave a dismissive shrug. "Not much really, they were a rather private family."

"But one of them was always mayor!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Oh in the mayoral sense they were wonderful," she said. "But other than that they kept to themselves. They were not a very public family."

"So you know nothing about his wife dying?"

Marian shook her head. "There were rumors, gossip that flitted about, we all agreed that her death was a bit odd. But no one thought too much of it because we hardly ever saw her. We supposed that she was just one of those hermit types."

"Did you ever meet Rucastle?"

"No actually. I never did. I met his father, he was a pleasant enough man, but I never met the son."

Sherlock returned to his laptop, annoyed by the fact that his mother hadn't been of much help. Suddenly his phone began to ring. He grabbed for it, and with a weary shake of her head Marian left the kitchen.

"What did you find Gavin?" he barked out.

Molly stared up at the ceiling, certain that Sherlock would never get poor Lestrade's name right. She continued to nibble on the scone, stealing sips from his coffee. He sent a glare towards her but she duly ignored it.

"Gambling? You sure? Under a pseudonym? Excellent." He hung up, tossing the phone to the table before opening up his email on the laptop. "Geoff found out that Rucastle is in major debt from online gambling."

Molly leaned forward as Sherlock pulled up multiple lists of bank statements. "Mark Rochester? Wow, that man is definitely obsessed with  _Jane Eyre_. How did  _Greg_  find this?"

Sherlock shrugged, not thinking that the information was significant. "This is why Rucastle faked his wife's death. He needed her money."

"Why would he fake her death though," she asked. "Why wouldn't he just kill her?"

"Most people aren't capable of murder," he stated.

"Given the right circumstances they are."

Sherlock eyed Molly, intrigued by the fact that she was so blatant with her comments. He found his cock giving a slight twitch. He shifted his hips, not exactly wanting to give in to his sexual urges at the moment; he needed to solve this case! Damn her for looking so delectable, bed hair and all!

He cleared his throat. "The man is probably a coward."

She nodded her head in agreement and grabbed another scone off the plate, entirely ignorant to Sherlock's current state of arousal. By the time she finished eating breakfast he was still tapping away at his laptop, every once in a while firing off a text to Lestrade. She was placing her dish into the sink to wash when she suddenly spun about and faced Sherlock, an excited expression upon her face. He glanced up at her with a questioning look.

"Rucastle wouldn't murder his wife," she said, "because Rochester doesn't! Rochester keeps his wife locked up because he couldn't bring himself to place her in an institution; those places were horrible back then. If Rucastle is as obsessed with the novel as we think him to be, then he would do exactly as Rochester does. Rochester keeps his marriage a secret, thus no one in the village knows of Bertha Mason's existence. Rucastle wasn't quite so lucky though, so instead he fakes his wife's death."

Within a matter of seconds Sherlock bound up from the table and was holding Molly in his arms, kissing her deeply, hungrily, pressing her into the sink. When his hands started to wander, slipping beneath her shirt, his fingertips ghosting across her skin, she gently pushed him away.

"Sherlock…" she breathed out. "We're in your parent's kitchen!"

He dropped his head down to her shoulder, panting slightly. "I know. I got a bit carried away. Sorry, I rather like it when you … do that."

She turned her head and bumped her nose against his jawline. "Do what?" she teased.

He peered at her from out of the corner of his eye, "Ramble off like that … so intelligently."

She giggled. "Ahhh." She rather enjoyed him being so flustered. "Perhaps I should … uhh … leave you to it?" Her eyes fluttered downwards to the prominent bulge in his trousers. "I think I need to go take a shower."

Before he could say a word she ducked out of his embrace.

"Damn," he muttered beneath his breath watching her hurry from the kitchen. He returned to the table, forcing his mind to focus on the case and not on the fact that Molly was currently upstairs getting naked. Nope, not thinking about that at all.

A little while later, just as she returned to the kitchen freshly showered, there was a frantic knocking at the door. Marian answered it and they were all greeted with the sounds of a child crying hysterically.

"I didn't know where else to go!" Violet Hunter's voice was barely made out over the child's screaming cries.

Molly looked at Sherlock before the pair of them hurried from the kitchen. Marian had ushered Violet into the front room.

"Violet what happened?" Molly asked her.

Violet was holding a little boy in her arms, cradling him to her chest. "Jeremy was attacked. Attacked by that awful woman! Look at his neck! She tried to strangle him!" She was very near tears herself. "I had to get him out of there! I didn't know what else to do! I haven't seen Mr. Rucastle for several days! No one has!"

"Dear, let me hold him for a little while." Marian held her arms out for the boy.

Violet hesitated for a few moments, then lifted him up to her. He was still crying incessantly. Marian rocked him back and forth, rubbing her hand up and down his back, speaking to him in a soothing tone. He clung to her, fat tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Why would she do that to him? Who is this woman?" Violet was nearing hysterics. "Is she really his wife, that poor boy's mother? I don't understand anything anymore!"

Molly put her arm around Violet, trying to calm her down.

"I think it's time I pay Mr. Rucastle a visit," Sherlock declared.

Violet looked up at him through her tears. "Oh no! You mustn't! He doesn't take visitors! He once chased a man off his property with a gun!"

Sherlock shook his head. "This case needs to be solved. And solve it I shall. A man with a gun won't stop me. Stay here with Jeremy, call a doctor if need be." He strode from the room.

Molly watched him leave, thought to herself for a minute then hurried after him.

"I'm coming with you!" she stated firmly.

He was pulling on his Belstaff. He spun about and faced her. "Molly, no. You heard her; this man is dangerous, probably just as mad as his wife. You're not coming with me."

She stepped closed to him. "Yes I am. Leave and I'll just follow you. You're not going there alone."

He gave her a pointed look then grabbed her coat and held it out to her. With a triumphant smile she pulled it on and tugged on her boots. They left the house and began to make their way towards the Rucastle estate.

"You will do exactly as I say," he instructed. "If I tell you to run, run. I'll never forgive myself if you end up being in danger."

Molly sniffed. "You put John in danger all of the time!"

"Yes, but I don't love him the way that I love you."

She bit down on her bottom lip, suppressing the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. They walked silently for fifteen minutes, until the mansion came into view. As they grew closer, a gunshot reverberated around them. Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind some bushes. They waited, panting.

Suddenly a man's voice roared, "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> DUN! DUN! DUN!
> 
> Sorry to end it there, but I had no choice; otherwise this chapter would be over 8,000 words long!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you think please! I’ve struggled with this Case Idea quite a bit! :-/
> 
> ****************  
> Also, my updating will be slowing down quite drastically from now on ... with the holidays approaching ... sorry! Don't worry, I will keep writing, it's just my access to a computer will be limited. I may get a chance to update again this Wednesday ... and after that I won't be updating again until next week, and from there I'm not sure. I have alot of family coming to visit ... Don't give up on me! This story will be continued ;)  
> ****************


	17. You are Not Welcome Here!

* * *

"YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!" a man's voice roared.

"Stay down," Sherlock hissed to Molly. He slowly rose to his feet, holding his arms up in placating manner. "Mr. Rucastle, I just want to ask you some questions."

Another gun shot. Molly shrieked, clamping her hand over her mouth. Sherlock hadn't even flinched.

"I answer nobody's questions!" Rucastle yelled.

Sherlock slowly stepped around the bush. "Mr. Rucastle, if you answer  _my_  questions, you'll never be bothered again."

Molly peered through the bushes, catching sight of the man, he was holding a hunting rifle directly aimed towards Sherlock.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Rucastle questioned.

"Let me into your house, and you'll find out," Sherlock replied.

"I let no one in this house!" he all but screamed.

Sherlock took a tiny step forward. "Oh, but you let Violet Hunter in, did you not?"

Rucastle kept the rifle aimed on Sherlock. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"She came to me for help," Sherlock explained. "She told me that she's seen a woman lurking about the place. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

Molly watched as Rucastle slowly lowered his rifle.

"Into the house. NOW," he spat out.

Sherlock lowered his arms and began to move away from the bush.

"Not just you, you're little woman friend as well," Rucastle said, pointing directly towards Molly's hiding spot.

Sherlock froze then slowly turned back around to face her, his expression was tense. She came to her feet and Sherlock held his hand out to her. They walked together towards the house. Rucastle kept a keen eye on them, his rifle held tightly in his hands.

"Inside," he instructed.

Molly was rather surprised he didn't nudge them with the butt of the barrel. She honestly felt as if she had entered into a movie. Once they were inside she slowly looked about her. The house was clearly very old, and was not well taken care of. It smelled musty, as if the windows hadn't been opened in ages.

"Now, tell me," Rucastle began, "what has Violet gone and asked you for help for?"

Sherlock turned around and faced him

"Not all that much really," Sherlock drawled. "I figured most of it out myself."

Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, even in the presence of a madman he had the gall to show off his ego.

Rucastle held the rifle down at his side. "What did you figure out then, eh?"

Sherlock rambled off his deductions, telling the man about his gambling habit, his obsession with the Brontë novel, the faked death of the wife to get her money, and that he had her locked up somewhere within this very house.

Rucastle nodded, clearly impressed. "Ahh yes, well done. Well done. I've heard about you. Wasn't there some sort of scandal? Something about you being a fake?"

Sherlock said nothing, only continued to stare impassively at the man.

Rucastle gave a defiant smirk. "Figured out my love for  _Jane Eyre_ did you? Fantastic novel. Fantastic. Bet I am the only man to ever live the life of a novel, eh? Shame that the world will never know- seeing as you have found out so much about me, I can't let you leave, not alive at least. You'll just go straight to the police and I'll be sent to prison. Can't have that now, can we? No, we can't have that. And my poor dear wife, she'll be sent to an asylum. No, no, no. That won't do. I devoted an entire wing of the house to her, made it up all nice, and still she isn't happy. Ungrateful bitch! Up the stairs with the pair of you, I'll have to lock you up, and deal with you later. Violet needs to be taken care of first, meddlesome whore, damn her too for being a lesbian! Should have made sure of her sexuality before hiring her. Marrying the nanny would have been the finishing touch." Rucastle picked up his rifle and aimed it at them, beckoning towards the staircase with it.

Sherlock gave Molly's hand a tug and they began to climb the stairs, Rucastle following closely behind them. He directed them down a long hall then had them enter one of the rooms. The room was pitch-black, the windows having been long ago bricked up.

"You'll be quite comfortable here, I assure you," Rucastle told them. Don't think you can escape either. There's no way out. No way out at all!" He started to cackle as he backed out of the room, still holding the rifle. He swung the door shut and Molly listened as he locked it from the outside. Neither one of them moved as they heard the sound of Rucastle's footsteps dying away.

"This was why I didn't want you to come with me Molly!" Sherlock all but growled as he moved towards the door and tried to force it open.

It was no use, the door wouldn't budge. He looked over the lock and took note that not only was it very old, but it was also extremely rusted. Picking it open was a futile option. But he would give it a try.

Thirty minutes passed with no result. The lock was far too rusted, it wouldn't budge. He threw up his hands in disgust, and began pacing about the room. Molly sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Surely someone would come, eventually.

Sherlock continued to pace the room, holding up his phone, desperate to find a signal, but there was not a one. "Damn."

Taking a torch from his pocket he strode about the room. Odd bits and pieces of furniture were strewn about, it was clear that this particular room had not been used for some time, and was not part of the house that had been fixed up.

"We must be in a part of the closed off section," Molly noted, standing up she hugged her coat more closely about her for the room had grown colder.

"There has to be another way out," Sherlock muttered beneath his breath.

She took out her phone, amazed by the amount of time that had already passed. She didn't have a signal either. She watched as Sherlock continued to move about the room. She wanted to do something to help, anything, but she felt utterly useless.

"Do you think Rucastle has left? To go and find Violet?" she asked.

"No. That was an empty threat," Sherlock replied. "The man is a massive coward. And a terrible shot."

"What is he going to do with us?" she questioned.

Sherlock turned to face her. "I don't know. I don't like not knowing."

She shuddered slightly. He peered at her for a moment then walked over to her and held her closer.

"We'll get out of this Molly," he told her.

She clung to him tightly. They both grew silent, standing there in the middle of the room. There were no other sounds. It almost seemed as if they were alone in the world.

"Sherlock!" Molly's voice broke through the silence in a hoarse whisper, her hand grabbing tightly onto the arm of his coat.

He turned his head to look down at her, barely making out her face in the darkness of the room. The faint glow of the torch was the only light, allowing him to just make out her widened eyes. He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, she held on to him with a vice-like grip. It wasn't until she repeated his name that he realized she wasn't just speaking because she was frightened of their current situation, but because she was seeing something. His head whipped around, his eyes alighting up the glowing white figure that stood before them.

_The Wife._

"Have you come to take me away?" the white figure asked. Her voice was soft, lilting, almost like a child's. "I want to go away. I don't like it here. I can never see the sun. I'm not allowed to see the sun. I want to breathe the air. I want to be left alone. Take me away, please." She rose up her arms, her palms facing upwards.

Sherlock heard Molly's breath hitch. The white figure hadn't moved. She was still standing near the wall. When Molly sniffled he suddenly realized that she was crying.

The white figure's arms dropped to her sides. "You won't take me away from here? You won't save me? I've tried to run away, so many times, but  _he_  stopped me, he has always stopped me. I tried to kill myself, put end to the pain, to the voices in my head, but even in that he would not let me succeed. He is not a good man. He is not a good man. He is not a good man. He is  _not_  a good man." She crumbled into a heap upon the floor, continuing to repeat the same sentence over and over,while she rocked back and forth.

"Sherlock … what do we do?" Molly whispered, continuing to stare at the woman. "We have to save her. We have to get her out of here."

Sherlock slowly shook his head. "I can't pick the lock, it won't work."

Molly at last tore her gaze away from the woman on the floor, her eyes widening. "Sherlock! This is a centuries old house, there's bound to be secret passageways throughout! I am sure that if we find one, we could sneak her out of here."

He looked at Molly. "Even if we could, I'm not letting her near you. She's dangerous! Look at what she did to her son!"

"And you think she won't attack you?" Molly asked. "Why would she trust  _you_? You're a man; she probably associates every male that she sees with her husband. If there is anyone that she can trust, it could very well be me!"

"Molly, no. I won't let you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes you will. Because you know it's the only way."

"It's not the only way! There are bound to be others!"

She very nearly stamped her foot upon the floor. "Sherlock let me do this! You can get out of here and contact the police! I'll get her as far away as possible from here."

"And what if she runs away from you? Takes off? What then?"

Molly shook her head. "She won't."

"How are you so certain?" he asked.

"I just am."

Molly could see that he was working out every possible outcome in his head.

He let out a resigned sigh. "Fine. But if she hurts you I'll never forgive myself, nor her."

Molly took his face in her hands and kissed him. "Thank you. Now just let me talk to her, she's made her way into other parts of the house, so she's bound to know her way around here."

He gave Molly another kiss before quietly stepping back into the shadows. Molly slowly approached the woman curled up on the floor.

"Alice?" she spoke her name softly.

The woman stopped rocking and slowly raised her head. Molly smiled kindly at her.

"Alice, my name is Molly. I'm here to help you." She kneeled down before her, but kept a safe distance from her, not wanting to make her feel trapped.

Alice stared at her. "Molly … are you here to save me?"

Molly nodded. "Yes. I am going to take you away."

With a great cry Alice flung herself towards her, wrapping her arms about her. Molly froze, uncertain of what Alice was doing, and terrified that Sherlock would rush forward, but when she realized that she was just hugging her she cradled her in her arms, speaking softly to her in soothing tones. "You're going to be all right Alice." She could feel her tremble. "We have to get out of here, Alice. Do you know the way out? A secret way?"

Alice lifted her head and nodded. "Yes. I once escaped. But he caught me."

Molly shook her head. "He won't catch you this time. Show me the way?"

They stood and Alice took Molly's hand. "This way!" she said to her.

Alice led her towards a bare wall. For a second Molly was worried that perhaps Alice was entering into some sort of episode and that all of this was to be for naught. But when Alice pressed her hand into the wall and a hidden door sprung open Molly let out a breath of relief.

She led her into the darkness, Sherlock following silently behind. Molly took out her phone and used the light from it. Alice let out a slight shriek but when Molly showed her where the light was coming from she calmed down.

"You're saving me. You're saving me," Alice spoke this like a chant as they continued down a long, dark corridor. It was damp and chilly; it smelled as if it had not been used in many, many years.

"Alice, where does this lead to?" Molly asked.

"Outside. A great big hill outside," Alice replied.

"Away from the house?"

In the dim light Molly could just make out that her head was nodding.

"Yes. Far, far away."

"Does it lead anywhere else?" Molly questioned.

"Yes. If we were to turn here it would take us directly to the kitchen, but we don't want that. No we don't want that."

Molly held out her hand behind her, and felt Sherlock brush his fingers across hers. It was time for them to part. In spite of her confidence in Alice not hurting her, Molly wished that Sherlock could stay with them. But she knew that it would be the wiser thing for him not to. She tried to listen for the sound of his retreating footsteps, but couldn't make them out over Alice's soft chatter.

The pair of them continued on for what seemed like hours, but was only thirty-minutes, according to Molly's mobile. At times it seemed as if they were going further underground, than at others the floor would ascend. By the light of her phone Molly spotted that they were approaching a small door. Suddenly Alice froze. Molly gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked.

"I'm scared." Alice turned and buried her face in Molly's chest, curling into her like a frightened child.

Molly gently rocked her. "It's all right," she murmured tenderly to the trembling woman. "You're safe. He won't get you."

"He is waiting for me. He is always waiting for me."

Molly held her closer. "Not this time. He won't be this time."

Alice started to shake.

"Shhhh … you're safe." Molly smoothed her hand up and down Alice's back. "I am going to keep you safe." When Alice began to sob she decided to switch tactics. "He won't able to hurt you anymore. You need not be frightened of him. You are safe now."

Alice continued to cling to her.

"Want me to check?" Molly asked. "Make sure that no one is there?"

Alice nodded, slowly easing off her hold from Molly. She hugged her arms tightly about her own person, leaning into the wall. Molly approached the door, hoping that it would not be locked. It looked old, and worn. She grasped the handle and turned it. With a great creak it slowly opened. After letting out a sigh of relief she glanced back at Alice who was still huddled against the wall. Molly had never felt such a strong hatred for another person, as she did for the man who had done such terrible things to this poor woman. She stepped outside, taking deep breaths of the clear air. Not a soul was in sight. She turned back around, stood in the doorway and beckoned to Alice.

"It's all right. There's no one here! Trust me Alice. You're safe now!"

Ever so slowly Alice approached her. "He's not there? He's not waiting?"

Molly shook her head. "No. He's not here." She held her hand out to her.

Alice took her hand and allowed Molly to lead her out the door and into the cold air. The sun had yet to set, but it was already beginning to grow slowly darker. Night was approaching.

"THE SKY!" Alice cried out triumphantly, spreading her arms out wide as she stared up at the firmament.

Molly watched her in awe, her heart breaking at the thought that this young woman had been subjected to such horrible torture for so many years. Suddenly Molly's phone began to ring. She glanced down at it and saw that she had service. She swiped her thumb across the screen to answer it.

" _Molly! Where are you? Are you safe? Are you alright?"_

"Sherlock slow down! I'm fine. We're outside. We're –" Molly spun about, searching for the house. "I-I don't know where we are exactly. I can't see the house anymore. We've come out on some sort of hill…"

Alice continued to stare up at the sky in wonder, circling about in a sort of dance.

" _Molly, can you explain to me at all where you are?"_

"No, I'm really not sure how far away we are from the house. Nothing here looks familiar. There's just a lot of trees and open, empty farmland."

" _Molly, stay where you are. I'm coming to you."_

"Sherlock, is he, did Rucastle get away?"

" _No. He is in police custody."_

Molly let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God."

" _She didn't hurt you, did she?"_

"No. Not at all. What is going to happen to her? Where will she be taken?"

" _There are people on their way from the nearest hospital. They'll take care of her."_

"Ok."

" _I'm coming to you Molly, wait for me."_

"I'll wait."

Molly tucked her phone back into her pocket, turning back towards Alice who was now skipping about like a child on holiday.

"Am I free Molly? Am I free?" she questioned, her voice sounding like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Yes Alice, you're free."

"FREE!" She spun about in a wild circle as she exclaimed this, then fell to the ground.

Molly rushed towards her to make sure that she wasn't hurt. Alice only laughed, continuing to stare up at the sky. Molly sat down next to her, waiting patiently for Sherlock's arrival.

"What will happen now?" Alice asked. "Where can I go?"

Molly worried her bottom lip, not entirely sure of what to tell her. "There are people that are coming to help you Alice. They will take care of you, they will keep you safe. You'll be able to see the sky everyday. Breathe the air."

"Will I?" There was fear in Alice's eyes as she asked this question, but also hope. "I had given up on this ever happening. I'm not a cruel person, I hate violence. But I became so angry that I couldn't get away. I look at my son, I see him and he doesn't know me. He doesn't know who I am. That angered me, angered me so much, I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't know what I was doing! I couldn't stop myself, I had lost all control. I'm not a bad person Molly. I'm not a bad person!" She burst into tears.

Molly took her in her arms and held her. "No Alice. You're not a bad person. You won't be punished. These people only want to help you, they won't hurt you. You won't be hurt. You don't need to be frightened anymore."

Suddenly Sherlock appeared before them, panting heavily, Molly couldn't imagine how he had managed to get to them so quickly. When he moved towards them she silently held up her hand, and he stopped.

"Alice, do you see this man?" she asked.

Alice slowly raised her head, cowering when she saw him.

"He won't hurt you," Molly assured her. "He's a nice man. He's going to help us Alice. He's going to take you to a safe place. Not all men are bad Alice. He is not a bad man. His name is Sherlock. He is going to help you, he wants to help you. We will be safe with him. You can trust him." Molly was running her hand up and down Alice's back, speaking to her in a soothing tone. "Will you trust him Alice?"

Alice nodded. "Yes."

Molly helped her to her feet, and only then did Sherlock approach them.

"Hello Alice."

Molly noted that Sherlock had turned down his coat collar.

"Take me away?" she asked him.

"Yes."

Molly put her arm around Alice's shoulders. "Come on, let's go get you somewhere warm."

Sherlock shrugged off his coat and handed it to Molly. "Give this to her."

She draped it over Alice's shoulders, and she took a hold of it and wrapped it tightly about herself. They began to walk, Sherlock leading the way.

"Do you know where to go?" Molly asked him.

"I have an idea," he answered.

By the time the house came into view, stars were beginning to faintly appear in the sky. Alice let out a shriek, and turned to run away. Molly grabbed a hold of her before she could.

"No! Don't Alice! It's all right!" she said to her. "We're not going in the house! You're  _not_ going back there!" Molly wrapped her arms about her, holding onto Alice's trembling form. "I know, I'm sorry. We only need to go a little bit closer. That's all. We're not going inside. You're  _never_ going back into that house."

Molly looked at Sherlock, silently pleading with him. With a nod, he strode off towards the house. Molly continued to hold onto Alice as she shook with sobs. It was no use; she would not move any closer. A few minutes passed as she continued to cry. She had her back to the place, thus giving Molly a clear view of it. She watched as an ambulance began its approach towards them.

"Alice, these are people that are going to help you. They are going to take you far, far away from here. You will be safe with them. You can trust them."

Alice's sobs turned into stuttering sniffles. "Can I?"

"Yes. You can."

The ambulance pulled up beside them and three women stepped out of the vehicle. Molly was pleased to see that there weren't any men. Alice eyed them all warily.

"Alice? My name is Anna. Would you like to come with us?" One of the women beckoned to her.

Ever so slowly Alice released her arms from around Molly. "Can you take me away?"

"Yes, we are going to take you away," another woman responded. "We are going to take you somewhere safe."

She stepped away from Molly, dropping the coat from her shoulders as she slowly approached Anna. Molly watched as they helped her into the ambulance. When the doors closed behind them, and the vehicle began to drive off, Molly couldn't help but shed a few tears.

"That was very brave of you Molly, all that you did for her."

Sherlock appeared beside her without warning, much in the way that he always did. Molly flung her arms about him, holding onto him tightly. He held her close.

"Did Rucastle give you any trouble?" she asked.

"He's dead."

"What?" Molly stepped back and looked up at Sherlock.

"I didn't shoot him. He shot himself."

She frowned. "How horrible."

"I wouldn't exactly say that. He deserved to die. No human being should be allowed to get away with what he did to her."

A great shudder ran through Molly and Sherlock took her back into his arms. After a few moments she tilted her head back and he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her. She brought her hands up to his curls, kissing him back.

"Thank God that's all over! Can we get away from here?" she asked him, panting against his lips.

"Yes." His voice was husky, a bit deeper. "I've already given my statement to the police."

He took up his coat from the ground and pulled it back on. The sun had now fully set as they began walking back towards his parent's home, both of them glad to have their backs to the Rucastle estate. They were cutting across a farm, to save time Sherlock told her. No one was about. The farm almost appeared deserted. There weren't even any animals in sight. The only sign that this was a working farm was the fresh piles of hay that dotted the field. Suddenly, without a word Sherlock suddenly pounced upon her.

"Sherlock!" Molly squealed as he pushed her downwards, her back nestled against the hay. She knew exactly what he was intending to do. "We're outside! Someone might see us!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo … isn’t Sherlock naughty!! Celebratory outdoor sex?! :O 
> 
> Hope this case was convincing enough … I struggled with it a bit!! Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :D 
> 
> I also don’t know for certain when I will be able to update next, sorry! 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! ;)


	18. Someone Might See Us!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have returned!! Sorry to keep you all waiting!!!
> 
> Expect another update Wednesday (I hope), but after that I probably won't be able to update again until either Monday (8th Dec) or Tuesday (9th Dec.) Sorry! But I have my Aunt and my sister coming to visit for my Mum's 60th birthday so I'll be happily busy :)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter, I give you some lovely smut ;)
> 
> **************************************************************

* * *

"Someone might see us!" Molly squealed as Sherlock pushed her down into the pile of hay.

"It's dark out. No one is around to see," he said to her. "I need you Molly, and I know you need me too!"

"But-!"

He quieted her exclamation with a kiss, while undoing the button and zip of her trousers. She kissed him back hungrily in spite of her protestations, moaning softly into his mouth.

"It's too cold out here!" she stated once they parted for breath.

"I'll keep you warm," he told her. He pulled his arms out of his Belstaff but kept it over himself, letting the sides fall down so that it cocooned the pair of them.

He returned his fingers to her trousers, giving them a gentle tug downwards. The moan that escaped her when he dipped his fingers beneath her knickers, slipping them between her folds so that he could directly stroke her clit, was very nearly his undoing. He gave the tender nub a few more strokes before making quick work of unbuttoning his own trousers. He pushed her pants to the side and she gasped when he entered her with one solid thrust.

"Warm. So warm," he murmured into her skin as he held himself inside of her delicious wet heat.

She slipped her hands over his coat and was clinging tightly to his shoulders, her fingertips digging into him. He began to thrust in and out of her with a desperation he had never quite felt before.

"It's been too long Molly!" he groaned into her neck. "Too long!"

She moved her legs until her ankles were resting on top of his calves, pressing her hips up to meet his, not caring in the slightest that the hay beneath her was digging into her arse. He was delving into her fully, reveling in the tightness of her around him.

"Sherlock! OH! Don't stop!" she whimpered.

He kissed her. "Never," he stated, their eyes meeting.

They kissed again, oblivious to all around them, only aware of the sensations that their joined bodies were creating. With a few more deep thrusts they came together. He silenced her cry with a kiss.

He rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting heavily. She was still clinging tightly to him. He pulled her close up against him, wrapping the Belstaff tightly around their still joined bodies. She began to shiver.

"Molly? Are you alright?" Sherlock rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone.

"That was … that felt amazing," she told him breathlessly. "It has been too long Sherlock." She held onto him tighter, and he kissed her forehead.

"You're not cold?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not anymore."

"We should have done this a lot sooner."

She tilted her head up slightly so that she could look at him, he was pouting.

"You had the case Sherlock. We both know how you are. And I was rather persistent about the no shagging in your parent's house."

He tightened his hold around her waist and looked down at her. "Never again," he stated firmly. "I'm not going to deny myself what I want and need anymore. Nor should you. I'm sorry I've been so distant."

"Sherlock! You haven't been distant at all! I've actually been rather surprised by how attentive you've been, I thought you would shut me out, constantly be in your Mind Palace."

He placed his forehead against hers once more. "I never shut you out. Don't ever tell this to John or Lestrade, but I wouldn't have been able to solve this case without you! You were brilliant Molly!"

She kissed him, hissing softly into his mouth when she felt his cock twitch inside of her.

"We shouldn't stay here," she told him firmly. "It's going to be dark soon, and the temperature will begin to drop."

He shifted his hips forward slightly, dragging his cock against her inner walls. "But I want you again!" he groaned.

"Sherlock, NO! Once was bad enough, we're not doing it here again. I have bloody hay practically up my arse!"

He gave a snort then grumbled into her neck.

"Take me back to the house," she told him firmly.

He lifted up his head and looked down at he., "Does that mean you'll let me have you in my childhood bed?"

She bit down on her bottom lip, not realizing that she was making him want her all the more. "You and your strange fantasies … yes! All right, we can do it there. But we'll have to be quiet, or I'll never be able to face your mother again!"

With that said Sherlock pulled himself out of her and with a bit of difficulty tucked himself back into his trousers. He kissed her before helping her zip up her own trousers. Moving to her feet, Molly giggled as she pulled out bits of hay from her clothing.

"You better close up your coat." She gave the prominent bulge in his trousers a good look. "Don't want to give anyone a nasty shock!"

He grabbed her hand, buttoning up his coat with the other as he led her away from their little tryst spot. Ten minutes later they returned to the house, but were surprised to find that all was dark inside.

"Have your parents gone to bed?" Molly asked him as he took out his key and unlocked the door. "It's fairly early! I thought your mother would stay up, worrying about our safety! And what about Violet and Jeremy? Where could they have gone?"

He let out a snort. "My mother doesn't worry. She knows me too well. Mummy? Dad?" he called out as they stepped inside.

There was no answer.

Molly made her way towards the kitchen while Sherlock turned on a few lights. She spotted a piece of paper on the table.

"Sherlock, there's a note!" she called out to him.

He came up behind her and picked it up.

"Have taken Violet and Jeremy to hospital. Don't wait up for us, will most likely be back late," he read.

Molly laughed softly. "Don't wait up for us? You're mother is adorable."

The note dropped from Sherlock's fingers and he quickly spun about. "We have the house to ourselves; we can be as loud as we want."

She felt herself blush; he gave her a rather wolfish grin before hoisting her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs. As soon as the bedroom door was closed he made quick work of removing her jumper, bits of hay falling to the floor. She grabbed his hand and slipped it beneath the waistband of her trousers, pressing his fingers against her pants so that he could feel how wet she still was for him. He groaned into her mouth as he kissed her and she chuckled. Within seconds she was standing entirely naked before him.

"Someone is rather anxious!" she said.

He was now starting on his own clothes. "I need you Molly! I want you again!"

She smiled and helped him with his shirt and trousers. "I want you too. Always."

He stopped what he was doing and held her flush up against him and kissed her deeply, he could feel her smiling against his mouth. He lessened the kiss slightly and continued to undress himself. As soon as he was entirely naked he eased her down onto the bed and began to lavish her body with open mouth kisses.

She was breathing loudly as he lapped at her breasts with his tongue, nibbling at the soft, pale flesh with his teeth. He suckled each of her nipples until they were both aching peaks. He brought his mouth back up to hers and kissed her hungrily.

"I wish I had known you when you were younger," she told him.

He nuzzled her nose with his, his fingers sliding up and over her hip bone. "You would have hated me."

She smiled. "Mmm … I think not. Would you have brought me here? Done this to me in your bed?"

He dropped his head down to nip at her clavicle with his teeth. "Possibly."

She brought her hands up to his curls, carding her fingers through them. "Hmmm … would you have done it while your parents were home, with the possibility of being caught, or waited until they were gone, like tonight?"

He picked his head back up and looked at her. "You're very talkative."

She gave his curls a tug. "Answer the question."

"I'd prefer them to be gone; I like it when you're noisy."

A loud moan escaped her throat when he ghosted his thumb across her clit.

"Don't hold back," he whispered to her, kissing the side of her neck before slipping down her body and positioning himself between her legs.

She cried out as he wrapped his lips around her clit, then moaned even louder when he delved his tongue into her wet centre.

"Fuck!"

Her hands were in his curls once more, her fingernails digging slightly into his scalp. She was beginning to shudder around him as he fucked her with his tongue, circling her clit with his fingertips.

Another cry escaped her, this time his name, as her orgasm washed over her. He placed a kiss on each labium, then upon her mons pubis and her navel before pulling himself completely upward so that he was hovering over her. He wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her breasts were rising and falling with each deep breath that she took. She smiled up at him before taking hold of his face and tugging him down to her for a kiss.

"Can I return the favour?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Another time. I want to be inside of you."

She nodded and he kissed her again. He took her right leg in his hand and lifted it so that it rested on top of his shoulder.

"All right?" he asked her.

She nodded again, breathlessly waiting to see how he exactly intended on taking her. He gave her another wolfish grin, teasing her now parted folds with the head of his cock. She mewled softly, but he wasn't ready to enter her just yet. He gently tugged her onto her side, so that they were both facing each other before he took her other leg and lifted it. Both of them were now resting on his shoulders, he shifted himself ever so lightly, his abdomen brushing against her clit.

Ever so slowly he eased himself into her, wanting to make sure that she was comfortable before he began to thrust. He watched her face as he fully seated his cock inside of her; she tilted her head back, her lips parting, her eyes closed.

"How does that feel?" he asked her softly.

"Oh Sherlock! It feels so good! So good! Please fuck me! I need you to fuck me Sherlock!"

That was all the assurance he needed. He slid out of her, his cock aching at the loss of her wet heat, before thrusting into her.

"Molly!" he groaned.

He forced himself to move slowly, wanting to drag out the sensation that this new position was giving them.

"Oh yes! Yes!" she continued to cry out as he filled her. "Kiss me," she whimpered.

He did so, bringing their bodies even closer. She moaned into his mouth, her hands dropping downwards to hold onto his arse as he started to thrust into her a bit quicker. He always lost some of his self-control as the build towards his orgasm grew closer.

"Oh! Oh! Fuck! I love how you feel inside of me Sherlock, Oh God, fuck!" She kissed him again, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it as he started to thrust harder into her now, his hips smacking against her, his pelvis pressing into her clit each time that he entered her.

She dug her nails into his skin and came with a wild cry, he gave one more thrust and held himself inside of her, reveling in the sensation of her convulsing around him. He watched her, her face flushed, her breasts heaving, as the waves of her orgasm continued to wash over her. After a few more moments, he started to move once more, desperate for his own release. With a great shout he emptied himself into her.

She held tightly onto him, not wanting him to pull himself out of her just yet. She pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, then his mouth. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, looking into her eyes. No words were ever really needed at this time; they had spoken so much with their bodies. He kissed her gently, easing her onto her back so that she could lower her legs to the mattress without him having to yet slip out his now-softened cock

Reaching out he grabbed at the duvet that had been shoved down earlier and pulled it up over them. She snuggled into him, their hands meeting, lacing their fingers together. After a few minutes they moved onto their sides, her breasts pressed against his chest, her thigh resting atop of his hip.

They kissed quietly for a time, still basking in their afterglow. He pulled their joined hands until they were resting against him, so that she could feel the elevated beating of his heart.

"I love you, so much Sherlock," she whispered to him, nuzzling at his bottom lip.

"Love you too."

It had been awhile since either one of them had spoken these words. They didn't need to; they both knew how the other felt. But still, it did feel rather nice to hear it.

* * *

Molly and Sherlock stayed with his parents for three more days. The police needed them to give a few more statements, as well as all of the evidence they had gathered about the Rucastle's. After a short stay in hospital Jeremy was released and Violet was allowed to keep him in her care, and would eventually be applying for adoption papers. The gardener, the cook and the housekeeper had been brought in for questioning. They had all played a part in Mr. Rucastle's plan; helping him to keep his wife captive. The gardener was in fact no mere gardener, but was also a former soldier and had been acting as Mrs. Rucastle's keeper.

When it was at last time for Molly and Sherlock to leave, Marian and Siger were sad to see them go.

"This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend away for the pair of you!" Marian exclaimed, fighting back tears. "Leave it to you William, to find a case!"

"I didn't find it Mummy, Miss Hunter came to me!"

Marian merely shook her head then gave Molly a warm hug, the pair of them had grown rather close over the time they had spent together. Sherlock even allowed her to hug him. Siger gave Molly a hug as well, and told her to make sure that Sherlock continued to take good care of her.

Marian released her son from her hold and stepped back from him with a fierce look in her eyes. When she spoke the words that she had been keeping at bay, Molly felt a bright blush cover her face.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you better make an honest woman of her!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*
> 
> I’m evil to end it there, aren’t I? :D


	19. Make an Honest Woman of Her!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, oh dear, what has Mummy Holmes gone and done now?! :D

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you better make an honest woman of her!" Marian exclaimed.

Molly was blushing so strongly she could feel her cheeks practically burning. She hurried toward the waiting taxi, not wanting to see what Sherlock's reaction was. Not only did she feel rather mortified, but she was also worried that Marian had over-stepped her boundaries and that she would now have to put up with a shut-down Sherlock the entire trip back to London.

Moments later he joined her in the back of the taxi. She forced herself to steal a quick glance at him. His face was relaxed, albeit contemplative. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if perhaps his mother had gotten him thinking. He had one time made a very faint reference to the fact that he was considering marrying her. Molly quickly shoved that thought away, feeling perfectly content with how their relationship was. She didn't need to be married to him.

His hand suddenly clasping around hers brought her rambling thoughts to a standstill. She dropped her gaze to their joined hands then back up to him. He smiled warmly at her.

"Sorry if what mummy said upset you. She does things like that."

Molly blinked at him. "It was- slightly embarrassing. I know that that is how most mothers feel and all … I just didn't quite expect her to say it so abruptly."

He squeezed her hand slightly. "Are you against the idea?"

She dropped her gaze again. "Aren't you?" She couldn't bring herself to answer his question.

"Molly … look at me, please."

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, his gaze was soft.

"I used to be completely against the thought of marriage," he admitted. "I thought it was a silly and ridiculous thing to do. But now, having been with you, sharing our time together, living together, I've grown accustomed to the thought that perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing."

She stared at him, shocked by his words. "Why?" she asked.

It was clear that her question surprised him.

She quickly continued. "Do you think that there would be some sort of advantage to us being married? That our relationship would change in some way? That I would have the same last name as you?"

He swallowed. "No-oo-oo. You could keep your last name if you wanted to. I don't think that it would change our relationship, exactly. We would still of course live together, spend our time together … make love in our bed together." As he spoke the last words he dipped his head down and murmured them into her neck so that the driver didn't hear. "It's just that I-I rather like the idea of you being my wife. I  _want_  to be your husband."

Molly leaned back slightly so that he had no choice but to look at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Sherlock Holmes?"

He huffed in annoyance. "Molly stop! I'm entirely serious. I mean every word that I'm saying."

She continued to eye him warily.

He threw his hands up. "Why is it that I can never convince you straight away that I'm speaking the truth?"

She frowned slightly. "Because you're you … I'm sorry … I still … I still sometimes think that you're only saying certain things to me to get what you want."

"Molly …" His tone was soft, pained. He pulled her to him, burying his face into her neck once more, taxi driver be damned. "Please stop thinking that! I don't! I  _don't_! Not anymore. Oh God, Molly, I'm so sorry for all that I've done to you. Why would you want to marry such a selfish arsehole?"

She held him close to her, murmuring softly to him. "It's all right Sherlock; I'm just being foolish that's all."

He turned his head, tucking himself against her chest. "No, you're not being foolish. I'm the fool, always have been, always will."

She placed a kiss upon his face, directly between his brows. His eyes met hers.

"I'm not asking you to marry me," he said, "not right now. But I might, someday. Don't give up on me, don't give up on us."

She let out a slow, shaky sigh, noting how much he sounded like a frightened child. She took his hand in hers and brought it up to her mouth, placing a kiss upon it.

"I won't," she said softly. "I never will."

* * *

Two weeks passed and Christmas was closely approaching. Molly insisted on them throwing a party and Sherlock had grumbled profusely about it, but when she declared that she wouldn't have sex with him for an entire month he quickly complied, albeit he still grumbled silently in his head.

The marriage discussion had not been broached again. Molly had in fact quite forgotten about it, Sherlock not so much. What he said to her in the taxi, had been entirely the truth, and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was now three days before the party and Molly had completely outdone herself. The flat was decorated with fairy lights, giving off a soft colourful glow. There was a small decorated tree in the corner, which Toby miraculously ignored, Sherlock not so much. When Molly came home one evening and found him experimenting on the needles of the tree, she gave him a good swat and told him that the tree was entirely off limits.

The day before the party she spent baking. She took over the kitchen, disinfecting it twice before she even attempted to start making anything. Sherlock went up to John's old room to sulk, for she had gone as far as removing his beloved microscope. It was safely tucked away in their bedroom, where he couldn't use it.

Molly was rather oblivious to his current mood, far too focused on what she was doing. But when she took the Fairy Cakes out of the oven, and placed them on a tray to cool, she came to realize that he was no longer in his chair where he had previously been.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

No answer. She checked the bedroom, the bathroom, nothing.

"Sherlock?" she called out again, climbing the stairs.

She pushed open the door, only to find him curled up in a ball on John's old bed, his back to her. Biting down on her lip to suppress a laugh she padded over to him.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked.

A humph was the only answer she was given.

She got up on to the bed, his back still to her; she straddled his hip grinding herself against him slightly. A loud shriek erupted from her when he grabbed her, rolling them both so that she was now underneath him.

"Are you upset because I put away your microscope?" she asked breathlessly.

"One of the reasons," he answered, dragging the tip of his nose along her jaw line.

"I only did that so that it wouldn't get covered in flour," she explained.

He lifted his head and looked down at her. "Suppose that was a wise decision." His eyes trailed over her body, noting that she was covered almost head-to-foot in the dusty white powder. "You're a menace in the kitchen Molly."

"So are you … when you're doing an experiment."

He rolled his eyes.

"What's the other reason you're angry with me?" she asked.

He dropped his head down to mouth at her clavicle. "I was quite intent on making love to you this morning … but you were very determined to get an early start on your baking … a bit too determined." He nipped at her with his teeth, before placing his hand on her breast, massaging it through the shirt she was wearing,

She let out a mewl. "Ohhhh … that's why. That's … mmm … that's a very good reason." She moved her hand down to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, slipping it beneath the fabric in order to wrap her fingers around his hardened length.

"Fuck," he groaned into her neck.

He made quick work of unbuttoning her trousers, pulling down the zip before shoving them down passed her waist. She gave his own pyjama bottoms a tug, allowing his cock to spring free. She took him in her hand again, guiding him to her.

They both let out a satisfied sigh as their bodies became connected. He rocked against her, kissing her deeply. Their movements quickly became fast and desperate. Within no time they were both crying out their release. He fell against her, and she held him.

"Better now?" she whispered, nuzzling at his earlobe.

"Mmm … for the time being."

She gave the back of his head a light swat. "I need to get back to my baking."

He let out a disappointed moan when she gently pushed him off of her.

"Why not come and help me?" she suggested. "The sooner I'm done … the sooner we can continue with …  _this_  …" She gestured between them, making it obvious what she was implying.

His eyes lit up. She shook her head as she fixed her trousers and shirt; the man was an absolute shag-a-holic. Not that she was exactly complaining. Before he could grab her, which she knew was entirely his attention, she jumped off the bed and flounced from the room.

A few minutes later he joined her in the kitchen. The pair of them worked side by side for several hours. Sherlock would never openly admit this, but he loved to bake. There was a science to it that he found fascinating. By the time they were finished they were both covered in flour, chocolate and red dye. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of his dark curls dusted with the white powder.

"NO! DON'T!" she shrieked suddenly.

He delved his hand into the bag of flour, and before she could duck he threw directly at her the entire contents in his grip.

"You twat!" she cried out.

His only response was a loud laugh as she continued to splutter. She quickly had her revenge though. She dipped her hand into the bowl that was now in the sink and gathered up the little bit of chocolate frosting that been left behind. She smeared the chocolate across his face, dragging her hand down his neck.

"Oh dear … !" she said in a mocking tone.

He glared at her, but then grabbed up her chocolate covered hand and took each individual finger into his mouth, slowly sucking off the chocolate. By the time her hand was clean she was a panting mess. Determined to pay him in kind she stood on her tiptoes and dragged her tongue across his cheek, licking up the chocolate that she had smeared there, she then moved her mouth down to his neck, licking off the chocolate there.

"Shower?" he croaked out once she was finished.

She chuckled into his skin. "All right."

He grabbed her about the waist and flung her over her shoulder. She let out a loud laugh as he carried her towards the bathroom. Once the door was shut behind them he pressed her against the sink and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth, running her fingers through his curls. Parting for breath they quickly undressed. She pulled him into the shower and turned on the water. As soon as both of their bodies were rid of the chocolate and flour, Sherlock pressed her up against the wall, the water cascading down his back.

Slipping both hands underneath her thighs, he spread her legs apart and lifted her up before lowering her down onto his aching cock. They both moaned loudly. She locked her legs about his waist, crossing her ankles, her arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. He thrust up into her, pressing her into the cold wet tile. Her head was thrown back, the hard pebbles of her nipples pressing into his chest every time that he entered her. She dug her nails into his shoulder, moaning incessantly. He kissed her, planting one hand on the shower wall, moving his other hand down over her breast, then her stomach, before reaching where their bodies were joined to rub his fingertip over her clit. She cried out into his mouth and after a few more strokes of his finger her orgasm struck. He dropped both hands down to her hips, holding onto her tightly, and began to thrust into her hard, her breasts bouncing wildly. With a great shout he emptied himself inside of her.

They held onto each other for several minutes, reveling in the high that their bodies had created together. Reaching out Molly turned the water to a warmer setting. Sherlock hissed slightly when the hot water hit his back. She massaged his shoulders, then dipped her hands downwards and grabbed at his arse. He yelped slightly and she giggled. He was still inside of her, and she was still pressed rather tightly against the wall. He shifted his hips slightly and she whimpered. Her body was always extremely sensitive to any sort of stimulation after an orgasm. He smiled wickedly, slipping himself out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Damn you and your libido!" she all but growled, planting her feet on the floor.

He smiled again and grabbed her shampoo bottle. Once they were both cleaned they got out of the shower and dried off.

"The kitchen is an absolute mess!" she grumbled, tugging on one of his dressing gowns.

"Later," he stated firmly, dragging her down onto the bed with him. "Nap now."

She snuggled up against him and he pulled the duvet over them. Within minutes the pair of them were fast asleep. It was nearly dark out when they both woke. In spite of the mess in the kitchen Molly managed to make each of them a cup of tea and heat up the leftover takeaway from the day before. Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, eyeing their handiwork.

"Don't even think about eating any of those Sherlock! They're for tomorrow." Her back was to him but she knew exactly what he was doing.

He grumbled and leaned back in his chair, knowing that nicking a cake would be futile; she would notice no matter what. She set his tea down in front of him and dished out the food before sat down beside him and tucked in; she was quite famished from their earlier activities.

"Should I wear my black dress tomorrow?" she asked him suddenly.

"NO," he answered her almost instantaneously.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I thought you actually liked it?"

He looked at her. "I do. This is why I don't want you wearing it. Gavin doesn't need to ogle you again."

She chuckled softly. " _Greg_  knows we're together Sherlock. I don't think he would openly stare at another man's woman."

He snorted. "You're not wearing it."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll just want me out of it, won't you?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "That's what you wanted that Christmas … when I first wore it … hmmm?"

He mumbled illegibly beneath his breath but the faint tinge of pink upon his cheeks said enough.

She cupped her hand underneath his chin to turn him towards her so that she could plant a kiss upon his mouth. "You're adorable when you're embarrassed," she said.

* * *

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

Sherlock held back his sarcastic comment while everyone greeted each other. In spite of the fact that he did not greatly enjoy parties, he had to admit to himself that he didn't mind being surrounded by the people he considered to be the most important in his life: Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary, their offspring Emily, Lestrade, and of course Molly. She was currently sporting the most ridiculous Christmas jumper he had ever seen. He was certain that she was wearing it to spite him for his previous comments about her not wearing that entirely too-attractive black dress. In desperate need of a distraction before his trousers became a bit tight, he grabbed up his violin.

Molly leaned back into the sofa as he began to play,  _We Wish You a Merry Christmas_. She smiled up at him, and he smiled down at her. Neither one of them aware of the fact that Mrs. Hudson had seen the exchange, and that she was smiling too.

The party was a success. Everyone enjoyed themselves, Sherlock and Molly's baking received copious amounts of compliments and Mrs. Hudson's punch guaranteed a happy time for all. Sherlock carefully avoided drinking any of that.

By the time everyone had left it was late in the evening, and Molly was happily content. This was most definitely a far better Christmas than any she had celebrated in recent years. Sherlock watched her from the kitchen as she settled herself down onto the sofa. Almost absent-mindedly his hand moved to his pocket, fingering through the fabric the object he had placed there earlier in the day.

Molly was now dozing on the sofa. The fire had nearly died; the only light in the room from the fairy lights. Sherlock sat himself down beside her. She hummed happily and moved closer against his warmth.

"What are you doing?" she murmured to him sleepily, blinking at him with tired eyes. He was holding her left hand in his, brushing the pad of his thumb across her naked finger.

He moved his other hand down into his pocket and took out the item he had been carrying around with him for some time now. "Making an honest woman of you," he stated firmly, slipping a ring slowly onto her finger.

Molly gasped as the coolness of the jewelry met her skin. Her eyes widened, no longer feeling tired. She glanced down at her hand. "Sherlock!" she breathed out. She continued to stare down at the ring.

It was delicate and beautiful, entirely different from the one Tom had given her. She silently cursed herself for even thinking of him at this moment, returning her thoughts to the ring on her finger. It was a bezel setting, with a small round diamond, perfectly sized for her hand. The diamond sparkled when it caught the light.

Sherlock waited, wanting her to speak first. She slowly raised her eyes, meeting his; there were no tears, only a faint hint of worry.

"Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hate me, I know I’m cruel to end it there! Just call me Steven Moffat’s twin! HA!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, the ring he gave her, the bezel setting is basically the type of engagement ring I’d want … if I ever get one :-P


	20. Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did it! 
> 
> I got it done in time! WOOHOO!
> 
> And I must say, I rather love this chapter :)

"Are you entirely certain that you want to do this?" Molly's voice was tinged with apprehension, her eyes devoid of tears.

Sherlock held back the huff that he would normally let out, and only nodded. "Yes." He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice softening, "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one." He paused again. "I ask you to pass through life at my side-to be my second self, and best earthly companion. I know I don't deserve you and that you should be with a far better man than I could ever be-"

Molly clamped her ring-clad hand over his mouth. "All my heart is yours, sir. It belongs to you, and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever." She dropped her hand away from him and grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him deeply.

She caught him off-guard entirely. For a few moments he froze in her hold, then suddenly realized what had happened and quickly began to kiss her back.

"So you will?" he asked hoarsely, after they parted in order to catch their breath.

"Yes! I will! I will marry you!" she cried.

He pressed her down onto her back, into the cool leather of the sofa, and kissed her again. She clung to him, running her fingers through his curls, entirely overwhelmed.

"Did you really just use several quotes from  _Jane Eyre_ , to propose to me?" she questioned against his lips, her tone a teasing one.

"Yes. I thought it would be appropriate," he said. "That you would like it. You did like it?"

She chuckled. "I did."

He kissed her again, deeply, before saying, "I was worried that you wouldn't, that you may only associate the novel with that bastard Rucastle."

She shook her head, brushing her lips against his. "No. He didn't ruin it for me. I still love that book. And hearing you quote it … Mmmm!" She pressed her mouth to his, their tongues soon fighting for dominance.

When they parted for breath she giggled slightly and said, "You do realize how positively cliché you are being by proposing to me on Christmas Eve?" She brushed her nose up against his.

He growled slightly. "Hush Molly. At least I didn't ask you on that horrible love day."

"Love day? Ohhh … you mean Valentine's Day. Yes, thank you for that."

He kissed her again.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmm?"

His hands started to wander, already slipping underneath her jumper to brush his fingers over her skin.

"Can we possibly move this to the bedroom?" she asked, slightly breathless.

He chuckled. "Don't like the leather against your skin?"

"Not really."

He eased himself off of her and helped her to her feet. They walked into the bedroom, and Sherlock switched on the lamp before pulling her to him and kissing her. Her back was to the bed but she quickly spun them about and pushed him down onto the mattress. He smiled against her mouth, loving it when she became a bit more dominating.

Breaking apart their kiss, she pulled off her jumper and straddled his waist. She rocked her hips against his, pushing up against his aching erection. He groaned loudly and she smiled down at him. She began to unbutton her shirt, but when he brought his own hands up to help her she pushed them away. He gave her a questioning look and she merely shook her head in answer.

He dropped his hands back down to the mattress and watched her finish unbuttoning her shirt. She pulled it off, and tossed it to the floor. Another groan escaped him when he took note of her wearing her see-through black lace bra. His cock gave a prominent twitch. That bra did things to him that he could never possibly understand. She gave him a wicked grin and reached behind her to unhook the clasp. She slipped it off, it joining her shirt on the floor.

Leaning forward she shifted herself upwards then tilted her body so that her left breast dangled against his mouth. She brushed her nipple against his lips. He opened his mouth and she dipped her body further forwards. He suckled her breast, holding tightly onto her and she sighed softly. He nibbled the hardened peak. With a gentle tug she pulled herself away from him, and shifted her body once more so that he could take her other breast into his mouth. He cupped his hand around the other one, tenderly massaging it as he lapped and suckled at her nipple.

Her soft mewls were positively driving him wild. He wanted nothing more than to flip her onto her back and fuck her into the mattress. But he didn't, she had taken dominance tonight, and he was going to allow it. With a soft pop she pulled her breast away from his mouth. She smiled at him before shimmying her body down his, and off the mattress.

He pushed himself up slightly to watch her. She kicked off her shoes and removed her socks before she undid the button and zip of her trousers, dropping them to the floor, revealing to him that she wasn't wearing any knickers. He was rather glad that he hadn't known this until now. She crawled back up onto the bed, keeping her naked body well away from his as she moved up over him once more.

"I think you should be naked as well, hmmm?" she said, a wicked glint in her eyes.

He nodded and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, once more pushing his hands away when he offered to help. He allowed himself to be distracted by the sight of her breasts dangling above him, they were still faintly pink from his earlier attentions.

His shirt quickly joined hers on the floor. She undid his trousers and after he lifted up his hips she tugged them down, stopping when she came to his ankles. She untied his shoes, slipping them off before removing his socks. She gave a final tug to his trousers and they too fell to the floor. He wasn't wearing any pants. His erection sprung up as soon as it was freed from its fabric barrier, and she gave it a satisfied stare.

She kissed her way up his legs, nipping at him with her teeth from time to time. When she came to his cock, she took the head in her mouth and dragged her tongue across it. He let out a low, satisfied sigh. She didn't take him any further into her mouth but instead released him. His eyes, which had fallen closed, flew open. He looked at her, watching as she once more straddled his hips.

With a soft cry she eased herself down onto him, sheathing him with her warmth and wetness. She rocked her hips slightly, but didn't fully move herself on him. She met his gaze and grabbed his hands, bringing them up to her breasts. She placed his palm on each and dropped her own hands away. It was then that she lifted herself off of him.

They moaned in unison as she began to ride him. He squeezed her breasts, massaging the soft flesh with his fingers. She tilted herself back slightly, giving him a better view as he entered her wet core again and again.

"Oh! Oh!" she whimpered.

She continued to ride his cock, panting softly. He watched in amazement as she slipped her hand over her abdomen, then dipped it downwards to rub at her perfectly exposed clit. She cried out when her fingers made contact. She stroked furiously at the hardened nub, quickening her pace on his cock. With her other hand she reached up and grabbed his, lacing their fingers together before pressing their joined hands to her breast. The light of the lamp caught the diamond on her finger and it sparkled.

With a few more strokes of her clit she came around him hard, screaming out his name. She dropped down on him and that was enough, his orgasm took over. He pressed his hips up into hers, squeezing her hand tightly. She dropped forward, shaking.

He pushed himself up, cradling her in his arms before easing them back down onto the mattress. After wrapping the duvet around them he curled into her, placing a kiss onto her ring-clad finger.

"My wife," he murmured to her.

Her eyes fell closed, and he watched her as a smile appeared on her face.

"Mmmm … not quite … you haven't married me  _yet_ ," she murmured.

"Shhh…" He silenced her with a kiss.

She chuckled into his mouth, pulling him close up against her. "Happy Christmas, you git," she said against his lips.

He leaned back and looked at her with mock-appall. "Name calling? At a time like this?"

She giggled and pulled him back down to her for another kiss. "Yes."

He grumbled in annoyance but quickly kissed her back.

A little while later they made love again, slowly. Taking the time to kiss and touch each others bodies, as if they were discovering each other for the first time. Now that they were both fully sated once more, they lay curled around each other with their hands joined; he was admiring the ring on her finger, brushing his thumb over it.

"Are you happy?" he asked her quietly, tilting his head to the side so that he could brush his lips against her temple.

"Yes," she answered sleepily, her eyes falling closed.

He kissed her temple again, before switching off the lamp and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed happily into his chest and snuggled into him.

"John is in for quite a surprise, isn't he?" she asked.

Sherlock chuckled. "Mmm, I suppose."

"Don't worry Sherlock; he won't think that you're taking advantage of me. He knows better now. No more Human Error."

His hold on her tightened slightly.

"Sorry," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his chest.

He sighed. "Don't apologize. He has every right to be concerned, knowing my track record."

She propped up her chin so that their eyes could meet. "But doesn't he realize how much we mean to each other? He won't doubt you Sherlock, not this time."

He brought his hand up to brush her hair back from her face. "I certainly hope so."

"Well, if he does I'll just punch him in the jaw."

Sherlock laughed, "That would be a sight."

Molly sniffed then laid her head back down. Silence fell for several minutes. He thought she had fallen asleep when suddenly her voice broke through the stillness.

"You do realize that your mother will want us to have a big wedding?" she asked.

He let out an exasperated groan at the thought. She chuckled softly and rolled onto her back before pulling him up against her, silencing his noises of annoyance with a kiss. When they parted he dropped his head down and nuzzled his face between the hollow of her breasts. She brought her hands up to his curls, gently massaging his scalp. Ever so slowly they slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Molly was the first to waken. Sherlock was curled up against the back of her, his arm draped protectively about her waist, snoring softly into her hair. She held up her hand, the diamond glittering in the early morning light. She couldn't keep a smile from coming to her face.

Sherlock stirred, murmuring something against her neck that possibly may have been a "Morning," but she wasn't entirely certain. She dropped her hand back down to the mattress and turned her head so that she could place a kiss upon the tip of his nose. His eyes slowly fluttered open, he blinked sleepily at her, and she smiled at him.

"Hello … future husband," she said softly.

He let out a quiet snort. "Hello … future Mrs. Holmes." He pulled her closer up against him, pressing his semi-hard cock against the curve of her bottom.

She let out quiet moan, then gently pushed him away. "Wait … I have something for you!" She let out a giggle as she slipped out of his grasp and out from under the sheets.

He dropped his head back down to the pillow and muttered unhappily into the fabric. She padded from the room, and he didn't lift his head back up until he heard her return. She was holding a brightly wrapped package.

"Molly … we agreed that we weren't doing presents!" He let out an indignant sniff.

She got back up onto the bed. "I know … this really isn't exactly a gift, more so a silly joke. Open it." She held the package out to him.

Continuing to grumble he sat up and took it from her, and proceeded to rip apart the paper. When he saw what the gift was he fell back into the pillows, laughing. She joined in with his laughter then let out a slight shriek when he pulled her to him for a kiss.

"Happy Christmas Sherlock," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled. "Happy Christmas Molly … thank you for the jars of face mask."

She giggled. "You're welcome. I thought it would be rather appropriate."

He kissed her again, blindly placing the box containing the jars onto the nightstand, before rolling her over onto her back. She moaned happily into his mouth when he nestled his body between her legs.

"What deems it as an appropriate gift?" he questioned, easing his cock into her welcoming, wet heat.

She let out a slight hiss, hooking both of her legs over his arse, before replying, "That … mmmm … that it is part of the reason we got together! Oh!"

Sherlock hummed for a moment, moving his cock in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace. "I see … yes, I would have to agree with that. Although … even without the face mask, I don't think I would have left your flat that night without having told you how I felt."

She brought her hands up to his face, cradling it, their eyes meeting as he stilled his movements. "Really?" she asked.

He nodded before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Yes, that was why I came to your flat, although I must admit I didn't exactly expect it to go as well as it did. I hoped that it would … but I also feared that perhaps I had, as I've always done, asked too much of you … and that you no longer loved me."

Molly pulled him down to her for a searing kiss, and when they pulled apart he began to thrust, no longer able to hold himself still inside of her.

"Cleary I thought wrong …" He dropped his head down, suckling at her neck between speaking. "I do tend to always miss something."

She held onto him tightly, lifting her hips up to meet his. "Yes! And I am so glad that you did. I've wanted to be with you for so long Sherlock! I've never given up on you, I never have, and I never will."

He grabbed onto her ring-clad hand, lacing their fingers together before pressing their joined hands down into the mattress, kissing her deeply. She mewled softly against his lips as he began to enter her harder. She came moments later, moaning out his name and how much she loved him. After several more thrusts he came as well, groaning her name into her shoulder.

"Love you too," he panted into her skin.

* * *

New Year's Eve came and went without much of a hit. Sherlock was called in on by Lestrade to help with a case; a missing bride. He didn't come home until the following morning. Molly considered going to Mary and John's party, although John had gone out with Sherlock to help find the missing woman, but in the end she decided not to. Instead she sat alone with a bottle of wine and several seasons of Doctor Who. It wasn't much, but she didn't entirely mind. It was probably better that she hadn't gone to the party, for she didn't even make it to midnight.

When she awoke the next morning she was surprised to find herself in bed. She could have sworn that she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She yawned as she sat up, scratching her head, blinking away the sleep. She could hear the shower going. Quickly slipping out from under the sheets she removed her clothes and made her way into the steam-filled bathroom.

"Care for some company?" she asked Sherlock.

He had his back to her, giving her an eyeful of his bare, wet arse, but spun about at the sound of her voice. With a smile he held his hand out to her. She stepped under the stream of water and wrapped her arms about his middle.

"Find the bride?" she asked him, turning her face away from the water, resting her cheek on his chest.

"Yes. Turns out her fiancée was only marrying her so that he would gain access to her money. Her family had been suspicious about him from the beginning, they warned her actually, but she ignored them. She ended up discovering the truth though, and he threatened to kill her if she tried to stop the wedding."

"Poor woman," she murmured.

"Mmm …"

They both fell silent, standing beneath the fall of water.

Molly turned her head slightly to look up at him. "I suppose it's a good thing then, that I don't have any money or family? Eh?"

Sherlock peered down at her. "It probably is, I'm sure they would try to convince you that marrying me would be a terrible idea."

She sighed. "Sherlock … please stop thinking like that! Even if anyone did try to convince me, I wouldn't listen to them. I know the real you, and I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks." She snuggled her head back into his chest.

His hold on her tightened, and he placed a kiss upon the crown of her head.

"Did you tell John?" she inquired.

"Ye-es."

She took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "Please don't tell me you let him know during an adrenaline fueled moment."

"I wouldn't exactly say it was adrenaline fueled."

"SHERLOCK!" she exclaimed.

"It just sort of spilled out of me."

Molly shook her head. "What was his reaction?"

"He gaped at me like a fish."

She sighed. "Did he believe you?"

"Surprisingly … yes."

She shifted her head so that her chin was propped on Sherlock's chest so that she could peer up at him. "Good."

He smiled before dipping his head down to kiss her. He slipped his hands from her back to her arse, gripping onto it tightly. She squealed into his mouth, feeling him smile against her lips.

"I think we should invite John and Mary over for dinner," she panted, pulling her head back slightly.

"Whatever for?"

She rolled her eyes. "To celebrate! They'll want to celebrate our engagement!"

Sherlock huffed. "Stupid traditions," he muttered. "Although, John did mention something about a dinner."

She smiled up at him. "It's not a stupid tradition. It's a nice thing to do, to celebrate the fact that we're deciding to spend the rest of our lives together."

"Yes but does it exactly bode anything towards our future endeavor? No."

She rolled her eyes again. "Well … no matter what you think of it, it's going to happen whether you like it or not! We are going to have a dinner with the Watson's!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy now guys?! :D
> 
> Dinner with the Watsons! This should be fun ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> These are the quotes from Jane Eyre that I used: 
> 
> Rochester to Jane: “I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.” -- and -- “I ask you to pass through life at my side--to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”
> 
> Jane to Rochester: “All my heart is yours, sir. It belongs to you, and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.”
> 
>  
> 
> Ahhh … happy sigh! :D


	21. Dinner with the Watson's!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have at last returned! And I just want to say that I love ALL of you guys!! The comments, kudos etc that you all leave me make me so happy and makes me want to continue writing!!! Thank you all so much! 
> 
> I was literally snorting with laughter when I was writing a particular scene in this chapter ;)

* * *

We are going to have dinner with the Watson's!" Molly stated firmly, the water from the shower head continuing to cascade down their bodies.

Sherlock grumbled, stepped away from her hold and grabbed the shampoo bottle. She watched him as he washed his hair. She stepped closer to him and brought up her hands to join his. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes closing. He dropped his hands down to his sides, allowing her to massage his scalp. He always loved it when she washed his hair. When she was done she gave him a gentle tug towards the stream of water. He ducked underneath it and rinsed out the soap before he shook his head, a bit like a dog caught in the rain, and Molly let out a little shriek.

He opened his eyes and smiled down at her before dropping his head down towards her and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She sighed into his mouth, pressing her wet body against his, feeling his erection quivering against her belly. Reaching out blindly, she grabbed at the soap and lathered it up in her hands. They parted for air and she began to soap up his body, purposely avoiding his twitching cock. Once his entire body was covered in suds she slipped her hands down to his erection and wrapped her fingers around him, cupping his bollocks in the other hand. He tilted his head back, groaning. She loved it when he looked like this, so completely in her control. She gave his bollocks a tender squeeze and pumped her hand up and down his cock, the soap acting as a lubricant.

"Molly." His voice was rough.

"Mmm?"

"Don't. Not in here. Please stop," he panted.

She dropped her hands away and stepped back. He let out a shuddering sigh and stepped underneath the stream of water ridding his body of the soapy suds. Once he was finished he reached out for her and pulled her under the water, kissing her deeply once more.

"Bedroom?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "I have a surprise for you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Dry yourself off, and wait upon the bed. I'll be in there in a tic."

He furrowed his eyebrows. But before he could say anything she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and left the bathroom. He blinked at the place where she had just been, then did as she asked.

Ten minutes later, he was waiting sprawled across the bed. He hadn't known where she had gone, but when he heard the floor above creak, he realized she must be up in John's old room. When he heard her coming down the stairs he propped himself up on his elbow, curious to know what she had planned. She stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

He hadn't expected this.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. Molly was wearing a pirate wench costume. Most certainly not a very historically accurate pirate wench costume, but he had to admit, and his cock most certainly agreed, it was quite an attractive get-up.

She gave him a little twirl, taking note of his admiring gaze. "You like?" she asked.

He swallowed thickly, and simply nodded, not entirely sure if he could form words. His brain seemed to have malfunctioned from the moment she walked into the room.

She gave a little giggle, her cheeks turning a faint pink as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him. "I told you I'd do this. Surprise!"

He chuckled, moving his hands over the fabric (polyester, awful!). "Yes, you did, didn't you? Thank you for doing well on your promise."

She leaned forward, giving him a good view of her cleavage. "Shall I wank your plank?" Her face became a bright crimson as she doubled over in laughter. "I'm sorry that was entirely awful!" She cleared her throat, swallowing the rest of her laughter. "I'm ready for ye to shiver me timbers Captain Holmes!" She fought back another laugh. "Are you prepared to be boarded? I want yer cockswain!" She doubled over again with laughter, no longer able to hold it in, nearly falling off of him and onto the mattress.

Sherlock gave a weary sigh, grabbed her about the waist and switched their positions so that she was now the one on her back. She continued to giggle, looking up at him.

"You're positively awful at this Molly," he said,

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Sorry … I did try." She giggled again.

"Perhaps I should just silence you." He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.

The kiss grew in passion and she squeezed at his hips with her thighs, thrusting her pelvis upwards to rub against his erection.

"God Molly," Sherlock groaned. "The sight of you dressed like this is doing things to me."

"Shall I keep it on then?" she asked with a smile.

He kissed her again, then hummed against her lips when she pressed herself up against him once more.

"Mmmm, yes, just with one minor adjustment," he stated. He took a hold of the fabric on her shoulders and nudged it downwards and continued to do so until the fabric was pulled down far enough so that her breasts could spring free. Her nipples were rosy pink, and hardened with arousal. "That's better."

He dropped his head down and took one pink nipple between his lips while he kneaded the other with his hand. He lapped at the soft underside of each breast, and her eyes dropped closed due to his ministrations. After he gave each breast a final gentle kiss he bought his mouth back to hers and kissed her deeply. She hummed happily into the kiss. He slipped his hands underneath the fabric of her costume, hitching it up passed her hips before sliding one hand down across her abdomen and dipping it between her soaked folds.

"Ooohhh!" she moaned.

He toyed with her clit, circling around it with his fingertip but not touching it. He did the same with her wet centre that was aching to be filled by him.

"Please!" she whimpered.

He pulled his hand away and gave his length a few strokes with his fingers that were coated in her juices, before leveling his tip with her entrance. She lifted up her legs and wrapped them around his hips, her ankles locking at the small of his back. She opened her eyes and peered up at him, her gaze filled with both lust and love.

He slid into her, thrusting shallowly, barely giving her his full length. She groaned in frustration, clawing at his back with her nails, trying to lift up her hips to reach him. He placed one hand onto her hip, pressing her down into the mattress.

"Please! I need all of you!" she wailed. "Fill me Sherlock! Fill me up with your cock!"

He muttered a curse beneath his breath but continued to tease her, just letting the tip of him rest inside of her, barely giving either one of them the pleasure they desired.

"Stop teasing me dammit!" she cried out.

He kissed her again, chuckling into her mouth. She whimpered against his lips then cried out in triumph when he at last gave a full, solid thrust.

"Yes! Oh yes!" she moaned.

He was fully inside of her now, and settled into a rhythm of fervent, deep thrusts. He watched in fascination as her breasts bounced, the fabric of her costume shifting each time that he entered her, it brushing against his abdomen.

Suddenly he moved back until he was resting on his knees, pulling her with him so that they stayed connected. He hooked both of his arms underneath her legs, lifting her arse up off the mattress, her legs coming to rest on his shoulders. The angle that he entered her was entirely different now. She cried out as he started to thrust into her harder and she clawed at the sheets.

Pushing the striped fabric of her costume further up her stomach, he looked down and watched his cock slide in and out of her wet core. He groaned at the sight, then brought his hand downward and began to stroke her clit. She came with a loud moan. He gave her now-tender clit a few more strokes, then moved both of his hands to her hips and began to thrust up into her as hard as he could.

She was moaning again, always so sensitive after she came. He was intent on having her orgasm a second time, joining him in the release.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she cried.

He leaned back slightly, changing the angle again.

"FUCK!"

Knowing that that was a sure sign that she was nearing another orgasm he brought his hand back to her clit.

"Fuck! Sherlock! Oh God!"

He couldn't hold on much longer, she was so wet, so tight around him.

"Are you close?" he panted out.

"Yes!"

He was feverishly working at her clit and she was fisting the sheets, her head thrown back, her hips pressing up towards his. With one final thrust he came, and she with him. Their moans filled the room.

Their bodies stilled and after a few moments he eased her down onto the bed, gently lowering her legs before slipping himself out of her. She was panting heavily and so was he. He dropped wearily down beside her.

"Help me, help me take – take it off!" She was pulling at the costume. "It's hot, and scratchy."

He pushed himself up and helped her to undo it before pulling it up over her head and tossing it to the floor. She let out a satisfied sigh as she lay back down, the cool air of the room caressing her bare skin. He gazed down at her flushed body, loving the sight of her like this, knowing that he was the cause of it.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling impishly. "Did you enjoy that?" she asked.

He nodded, still a bit too breathless for words. He leaned down over her and kissed her. She hooked her arm about his neck and curled her body into his.

"Avast ye matey's, yo ho!" she murmured against his lips.

He smiled, shaking his head before he shifted himself so that their bodies were directly pressed together, still slick with sweat. He blindly reached out for the sheet to cover them. She tucked herself under his chin and let out a slow contented sigh.

* * *

Several days later the dinner invitation had been issued to the Watson's and they gladly and excitedly accepted. Molly swapped shifts with another pathologist so that she could have enough time to cook the meal. Mary offered her help but Molly had insisted that she wanted to do it all herself. Sherlock would have (after a bit of persuasion) helped her as well, but he had gotten a case (conveniently?), leaving Molly alone to take care of everything herself. She didn't actually mind though, she enjoyed having the quiet and empty flat to herself.

The kitchen filled with the smell of the roast cooking in the oven, while she chopped up the vegetables that she would be steaming. Once she was done with these she started to gather up the ingredients she needed for the Yorkshire puddings she would be making to accompany the roast.

Sherlock came home just as she was taking out the roast to check it. He was undoing his scarf as he walked into the kitchen and the sight of her bending over, stopped him in the doorway. Molly was rather oblivious to his presence, until she heard him clearing his throat.

"Sherlock, are you ogling my arse?" She looked at him over her shoulder, flashing him a wicked smile.

He pulled off his scarf then shrugged out of his Belstaff as she straightened and closed the oven door. After flinging both his coat and scarf over the back of one of the kitchen chairs he walked over to her.

"I'm surprised you're back already!" she said to him.

He rolled his eyes. "The case was a trivial three, an absolute bore. I had it solved within seconds. The Yard are getting worse with their inability to handle the simplest of cases."

Molly laughed slightly. "That's why they are so fortunate to have you help them!"

He grumbled slightly, but she was certain she caught a faint hint of a smile about the corners of his mouth. He placed his arms about her waist and was peering over her shoulder at her handiwork.

"Whatever you are making smells fantastic!" he told her.

"Glad to hear it. I hope it tastes as good as it smells, I've only made a roast one other time before, but I'm quite confident it will be delicious." She brought her hands up to the back of his neck as she spoke, moved her fingertips through the hair at his nape.

"Are you nearly finished?" he asked.

She leaned back slightly so she could look up at him. "What, with cooking? For now yes. I've turned the oven off, the roast is done. I can't do anything else until shortly before Mary and John arrive; which isn't for over an hour from now, why?"

A certain look came into Sherlock's eyes, a look that Molly knew far too well. Within a matter of seconds he lifted her up and placed her on top of the counter, before he cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her deeply.

"Right here?" she questioned against his lips. "With all of this … around?"

He simply nodded, breathing heavily from their kiss, shoving a few things out of the way before beginning to undo her trousers.

She giggled, surprised by his desperation. "I thought it was only after when you have a big case, a nine at least, that you want me this badly."

He kissed her again before answering, "I always want you Molly, sometimes I am just better at holding myself back … right now … not so much."

She laughed again and dropped her hands down to his trousers, unhooking the button and pulling down the zip before using her feet to tug the fabric down so that it pooled at his ankles. His erection fell hard and heavy into her open palm. He groaned slightly, leaning forward into her as she gave his cock several long strokes.

He swatted her hand away making her laugh grow stronger. He silenced her with another kiss, lifting her up with one hand so that with the other he could remove her trousers and knickers. When he dropped her back down, her naked bum gave a soft smacking sound as it made contact with the counter.

"Sherlock!" she whimpered, her forehead coming to rest against his.

He had grabbed her about the waist pulling her to the edge of the counter, her legs were spread, her knees on either side of his hips. The height of the counter was a perfect advantage, placing her directly at his level. He parted her folds with his thumbs and slid his length into her.

She kissed him, moaning into his mouth as he began to slowly move in and out of her. He held tightly onto her hips, holding her in place as he entered her again and again, her hands moving down to cup his arse.

He began to gradually pick up speed, the kitchen filling with the sounds of skin meeting skin and their combined moans. She leaned her head back against the cabinet door as he suckled at the base of her throat, whilst bringing up his hand to cup and massage her breast through her t-shirt and bra.

"Harder! Please!" she pleaded.

Dropping his hand away from her breast he slipped both of his hands beneath her, cupping her bum and pulling her slightly closer as he began to practically pound himself into her.

"YES!" she cried.

She locked her legs around him, arching her back as her orgasm washed over her; it only took him three more thrusts to join her. He leaned against her, and she cradled his head in her hands as they both desperately fought to catch their breath. They kissed as she unlocked her ankles, letting her legs fall down to his sides.

"Shower," she murmured.

He nodded and scooped her up in his arms, toeing off his shoes prior to kicking away his trousers. He carried her towards the bathroom. If she had seen them from another angle, she would have laughed at the sight of him in his socks and only a shirt and his suit jacket.

They spent the majority of the time beneath the warmth of the water standing in each other's arms, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He continuously placed kisses upon her face, always returning to her lips before starting over again, making her laugh.

"We really should get cleaned up Sherlock!" she admonished. "John and Mary will be here soon!"

A few minutes later they surfaced from the steam-filled bathroom. Once they were both dressed Molly returned to the kitchen and put the oven back on and proceeded to disinfect the countertop. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks at the thought that she would never be able to look at that particular part of the kitchen the same ever again.

"Sherlock!" she called out. "Set the table please! And do it properly. I know you know how."

He entered the kitchen and narrowed his eyes at her. "Of course I know how! I had to learn it for a case once, never deleted it."

She shook her head and continued to prepare the Yorkshire puddings for the oven. She was just putting them in when the doorbell rang.

"Doesn't John have a key?" she called out to Sherlock as he made his way to open the door.

She could hear their voices as they came up the stairs. With a final glance at the vegetables, she stepped from the kitchen to greet John and Mary. Mary all but squealed when she saw Molly and rushed over to her to pull her into a hug.

"Congratulations!" Mary exclaimed.

Molly could practically hear Sherlock rolling his eyes. "Thank you Mary!" She hugged her back.

"Let me see the ring!"

Molly held out her hand.

"Oh my God, it's gorgeous!" Mary said, eyeing the ring appreciatively. "Absolutely beautiful! Sherlock definitely has excellent taste."

"Of course I do," he drawled. "I was able to deduce exactly what she wanted, it was quite simple really."

John still had Emily in his arms when he grabbed his friend and steered him away from the two women.

Mary told her as she held up the bottle as she said, "I brought that wine you had at our house a few weeks ago; since you said you liked it."

Molly smiled. "Oh thank you! That's lovely."

"Shall I open it?" Mary asked.

"Sure! The glasses should be on the table."

Mary returned with the glasses a few moments later. "Did Sherlock set the table?"

Molly was stirring the vegetables. "Yes."

"It looks like the bloody Ritz!"

Molly laughed. "Yes well, he said that he had to learn how to properly set a table for a case once."

"That explains it." Mary chuckled as she poured the wine into the glasses. "That man will delete facts about the solar system, but he'll keep how to properly set a table. He has his priorities straight!"

Molly laughed again, spooning out the vegetables into a bowl.

Mary leaned against the counter, taking sips of wine, as she held a glass out to Molly. "Speaking of priorities … so you two engaged … how does that make you feel?"

Molly grabbed the glass and took a generous sip before answering her. "It makes me feel fantastic. I've never been happier! I … I think I  _could_  have been happy with Tom … content … but I know that there would always have been this feeling that something was missing. With Sherlock … I don't feel that. It feels right."

Mary smiled. "Well … I always hoped that Sherlock would pull his head out of his arse and accept the fact that he loved you, and I am so glad that he finally did! If he hadn't I may have been tempted to shoot him again!"

"Mary!" Molly gave her friend's shoulder a little shove. "That's an awful thing to say. Shooting him wouldn't have solved the problem!"

"Perhaps not …" Mary shrugged. "But he would have had a morphine drip, and he may just have been able to let his barriers drop."

Molly took another sip of wine before saying, "Well, it turns out that he didn't need morphine or any other type of drug to be able to tell me that he loved me."

Mary's smile widened. "And I am very happy about that."

John's voice suddenly broke through their conversation as he called out from the other room, "Mary! I think Emily needs to be changed!"

She let out a weary sigh. "I'm on diaper duty tonight." She set down her glass and walked out of the kitchen.

Molly stayed behind to check on the Yorkshire puddings. When she closed the oven door she was surprised to find John beside her.

"Did Sherlock disappear into his Mind Palace?" she questioned.

"Actually no … I just wanted to talk to you, that's all."

Molly set down the oven mitts and turned to face him fully. "Do you think I'm making a mistake, in marrying him?" she asked.

John's eyes widened at her blunt question. "No! I honestly don't. I'm happy for both of you. I admit I was a bit shell-shocked when Sherlock first told me, albeit that could possibly be because of when he chose to tell me, the bloody bastard."

Molly giggled softly. "Yes … he did mention that it was during a somewhat adrenaline fueled moment …"

"Yes. We were chasing after the fiancée … and Sherlock just went and blurted out 'I suppose this is an excellent time to tell you that Molly and I are getting married.'"

She hid her face in her hands. "He didn't! Oh bloody hell!"

John placed his hand on his arm. "Looking beyond that though, I am very happy for both of you. Sherlock needs you, he's always needed you … and I think you need him too."

Molly dropped her hands away from her face and nodded. "I do. I really do. I don't know what I'd do without him. Life would be such a bore!"

John gave her a smile then pulled her into a hug. "Take care of him, I know you will … you always do, but make sure he takes care of you too!"

Molly nodded again. "He does. Don't worry."

"Why are you hugging my future wife?"

The pair of them separated at the sound of Sherlock's voice.

"Jealous?" Molly teased, grabbing up her wine glass and taking a generous sip.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as John quickly ducked out of the kitchen.

"You'll be paying for that later," Sherlock growled beneath his breath.

"Will I?" Molly batted her eyes at him before flouncing from the kitchen to join Mary on the sofa, who was holding a freshly changed Emily.

"How is the offspring?" Sherlock drawled as he sat in his chair.

Molly sent a glare towards him and took the little girl in her arms.

John gave him a weary look before saying, "Her name is Emily; I know you didn't delete that, her being your goddaughter and all."

Sherlock gave a noncommittal shrug. Everyone knew deep down that he positively adored her; even though Mary and John wouldn't allow him to experiment on her.

"She is doing extremely well," Mary told him. "She's grown considerably over the past month."

"She does seem longer since I saw her on Christmas!" Molly noted as she held Emily up, her little feet coming to rest on her knees. "Yes, you have grown! Haven't you, you beautiful girl!" she cooed to her, Emily gave her a huge gummy smile.

Once she had been fed and settled into her play pen, the adults sat down to eat. The conversation flowed easily. Perhaps it was because of the fact that they were already on their second bottle of wine, or perhaps it was because they were all very good friends, and they were in a celebratory mood.

Molly was rather shocked to see Sherlock drinking. It was quite possibly the most at ease she had ever seen him, except for when they were alone. John had just finished telling a rather raunchy joke and all four of them were laughing. As the laughter died off a bit, she went to take another bite of her roast when suddenly she felt a strange ache in the pit of her stomach.

She laid down her fork and focused on taking several deep breaths as a wave of nausea flowed over her. John was the first to notice her discomfort, Sherlock was a bit too busy swirling his wine about in his glass.

"Molly, are you alright?" John leaned forward, concerned.

"You're very pale," Mary noted.

Suddenly the nausea grew in intensity, just as Sherlock looked up and quickly set down his glass.

"Molly?"

She bolted from the table and ran to the bathroom slamming the door shut behind her, reaching the toilet just as the nausea hit the precipice of her throat. As she emptied the contents of her stomach she heard the door open and someone enter.

"Sherlock please don't come in here, you don't need to see me like this!" Her voice was weak, tiny. She curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

She felt his warmth as he settled down beside her. "Molly, if we intend on marrying and spending the rest of our lives together, there are bound to be moments like this. It's human nature, we get sick, we sweat, we smell ... we just have to accept it and deal with it."

In spite of her aching belly she uncurled herself slightly, just enough to peer up at him. "That is the most un-Sherlock like thing I have ever heard you say."

He gave a shrug. "Hence the reason I don't often drink."

She let out a snort then moaned as she leaned forward towards the toilet.

She felt him put his arm about her. "You'll have to get used to feeling like this Molly ... at least for the next six weeks."

Once she had stopped retching she leaned back, taking the towel that he offered her.

She turned and looked at him, wiping her mouth before saying, "What the hell are you on about?"

"You're pregnant, Molly."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN! DUN! DUN!
> 
> I know, I’m truly awful aren’t I! 
> 
> Soooo … is she? Or isn’t she?!?!?!? *wiggles eyebrows* 
> 
> Have you ever felt perfectly fine and then just out of nowhere a stomach virus has just hit you? I have, and it’s not fun!
> 
> Oh yeah and there’s the counter sex that Mycroft was so rude to interrupt at the end of Chapter Nine … heh … ;)
> 
> And the whole pirate talk was what had me snorting with laughter … ‘wank your plank’ HAHAHAHA!
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think!


	22. You're Pregnant, Molly!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo … Is she? Or isn’t she???? ;)

"You're pregnant, Molly. It's perfectly obvious," Sherlock deadpanned.

She dropped the towel to her lap, and turned so that she was fully facing him. "That's not possible, I'm on the pill."

"Which has an eight percent failure rate."

She huffed out a breath. "Sherlock, I'm not bloody pregnant! I stopped menstruating just a couple of days ago!"

"Some women continue to do so while pregnant."

She moved to stand up but was rather unsteady, he caught her and helped her to rise. "Sherlock you're drunk, hence the reason for your absolutely ridiculous deduction! Do not drink and deduce. I am NOT pregnant. Just because I am throwing up does not mean I am pregnant! I want to talk to John; I need a voice of reason!"

"I'm not drunk," Sherlock stated indignantly.

She snorted again. "You're not yourself that's for sure! Get John, please."

He let out a huff but did as she asked. She placed her hand flat on the counter, steadying herself. When John entered the bathroom she gave one look at Sherlock and he walked out; most certainly to go to his chair and pout. Molly could faintly hear Mary ask him if everything was alright.

"Are you feeling ok?" John asked her as he moved closer.

She gave a slight shrug. "I have a horrible stomach ache, but I no longer feel nauseous. John ... Sherlock thinks I'm pregnant." She shook her head. "I don't think that's possible. I haven't felt sick until tonight, I haven't gained any weight, nor have I had an increase in appetite ... there's nothing that points in that direction! Couldn't this just be some kind of virus?"

John looked her over for a moment. "Has there been anything going around at Bart's? Any illness?"

Molly thought for a moment. "Two of the interns called out sick earlier this week. I don't know why though."

He nodded then reached up to feel her forehead. "You're quite warm. Do you have a thermometer?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Not one that I'd want to stick in my mouth."

He suppressed a shudder, not wanting to know what sort of hare-brained experiment Sherlock must have used it for. "Well you do feel like you have a fever. You know your body better than anyone else; I think it's safe to say that you are not pregnant. But if you want to be one-hundred percent certain, then take a pregnancy test."

She let out a relieved sigh. "Oh thank God!"

John looked at her, a bit surprised.

"Don't get me wrong," she stated quickly. "I do want children, eventually, it's just that ... ahh ... Sherlock and I haven't exactly had that conversation as of yet. And I'd really prefer to do so before I actually do become pregnant. I'm rather surprised his mother never made any sort of comment about wanting grandchildren while we were there. But talking about it with him beforehand would be much more convenient than while I am already pregnant."

John gave her arm a comforting pat. "Yes, I understand that. I really think you have nothing to worry about right now. Just get some rest, drink fluids."

She groaned. "Oh God! I've gone and ruined this whole dinner! I'm so sorry!"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Molly it's all right, we can't control when things like this happen. Come on, you should go and lie down. Mary and I will do the washing up, you and I both know that Sherlock won't help with that."

She gave John a weak smile as he led her out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom. "Sherlock has actually become a bit better with cleaning up after himself," she noted.

John's eyes grew wide. "Good lord, you've domesticated the man! You definitely are good for him!"

She couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle, even though it made her stomach hurt more. She kicked off her shoes then crawled onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her.

"Do you want Sherlock to come in here," John asked, "or would you prefer to be left alone?"

"He can come in if he wants," she answered from breath the blanket. "Just as long as he keeps his drunken deductions to himself."

John laughed. "Yes well, good luck with that!"

He left her then, and she crawled further under the duvet. When Sherlock came into the room she was nothing but a lump beneath the blanket.

"Molly."

"Not a word Sherlock!" her voice ebbed out from beneath the blanket.

He let out a soft huff.

"John doesn't think I'm pregnant and neither do I, I have a bloody fever! And if you're going to continue blathering on about it then you can just piss off and go help John and Mary do the washing up." She didn't mean to sound so snarky but she had the tendency to not be very nice when she didn't feel well. The lump shifted as she curled up onto her stomach.

"I'd rather stay here with you," he said. "And make sure you're all right."

She could hear him taking off his shoes then felt the bed dip as he lay down beside her.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

She let out a whimper. "Not really. My stomach still hurts horribly."

"Why don't you put on your pyjamas, at least the bottoms? You'll be more comfortable."

The only reply he was given was a grunt. He slipped his hands underneath the duvet and she let out a yelp when they made contact with her. He quickly uncovered her and she rolled over so that he could undo her trousers. He pulled them off, leaving her in her knickers whilst he went to grab her pyjama bottoms. She laid her hands upon her abdomen. When he moved back over to her and began to slip one pyjama leg on, then the other, she started to giggle. He looked up at her, wondering what she could possibly find so funny.

"Usually you're undressing me, not dressing me!" she explained.

He shook his head then finished pulling up the pyjamas. His hands coming to rest on her hips. "If you weren't feeling unwell, I wouldn't be  _only_  undressing you." He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You do feel warm."

"Told you."

He lay back down next to her and she grabbed the duvet and covered herself entirely with it, returning to lump form. When the lump started to shake, he asked, "Are you cold?"

"Mmhmm."

Sherlock slipped off the bed and searched about for another blanket that he knew he had tucked away somewhere. Upon finding it he returned to the bed and draped it over the lump that was Molly Hooper.

"Better?" he asked.

She made a small noise. "Where are you?" Her hand appeared from beneath the duvet.

He grabbed a hold of it. "I'm here."

He moved closer to her and felt the duvet shift and lift, then her body was pressed against his, her head appearing above the blanket. He gathered her against his warmth, splaying his large hand over her stomach.

"Tea would help with the pain," he suggested.

She made another small noise. "I just want to sleep."

He kissed her forehead. "Then go to sleep. You can have tea in the morning."

She closed her eyes, snuggling her head into his chest. The faint sounds of Mary and John washing the dishes in the kitchen slowly died away as she drifted off. By the time they quietly left the flat, both she and Sherlock were fast asleep.

* * *

Forty-eight hours later, Sherlock was the one hugging the toilet. Groaning he reared onto his haunches, his head lolling back to lean against the wall.

"I blame this entirely on you," he all but growled, sending a glare in Molly's direction.

She merely shook her head and wiped at his face with a damp towel. "It's human nature, we get sick, we sweat, we smell ... we just have to accept it and deal with it," she parroted.

He let out a loud huff then moved to cover his stomach with his arms, wincing slightly.

"Think you're done here?" she questioned a few moments later.

"Mmmm … yeah …" He came unsteadily to his feet and walked out of the bathroom, before crawling back under the duvet.

He laid under it in much the same manner as Molly had done, except now there was a large Sherlock sized lump instead of a petite Molly sized one. She giggled softly as she followed him onto the bed. She started poking at the duvet.

"Where are you? You should put this back on your forehead." She was holding a small cold, damp cloth in her hand.

Suddenly a mess of curls appeared at the top of the bed, followed by a large hand that was making grabby motions at the air. She laughed again and pushed the cloth into his fingers. Curls and hand disappeared beneath the duvet once more.

"Want tea?" she asked.

She only got a grunt in reply. Shaking her head she moved herself carefully off of the bed and padded out of the room. When she returned to the bedroom, with two cups of tea, she could hear him groaning beneath the blanket.

"Oh God, I'm dying!"

She exhaled a loud, annoyed huff. "You are not dying! Stop being so bloody dramatic! Honestly Sherlock!" She put down the two cups and proceeded to give the duvet a tug. "Drink your tea, it will help."

The curls popped up once more, followed by the rest of his head, he peered out at her with red, glassy eyes. He really did look quite pathetic, but not dying, definitely not dying.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You survived two years away destroying Moriarty's web, I'm quite certain you are going to survive this stomach virus!"

With another over-dramatized groan, he pushed himself up to a seated position and took the offered tea from her. He stayed silent the entire time he drank. Molly sat herself down next to him and drank hers in silence as well. When they were both finished she took the two cups and brought them into the kitchen. Upon returning to the bedroom she found him having not entirely disappeared once more beneath the duvet. He was lying on his side, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He turned his gaze to her as she walked up to the bed.

She re-situated the cloth on his forehead so that it wouldn't slide off. He uncurled one arm and opened up the duvet to her. With a smile she kicked off her slippers and slid under the blanket. He curled it back around them. She tucked herself in under his chin, pressing as much of her body up against him. He moaned in contentment.

"Better?" she questioned.

"Not so sure. Need more sleep."

She chuckled, moving her hand onto his back and massaging him gently with her fingers. He let out another moan. Minutes later he was snoring into her hair.

Sherlock was the first to wake the following morning. Molly was still curled up against him. His stomach no longer hurt, but he felt weak from lack of food. While working on a case he could go several days without eating or sleeping, clearly he could not do the same with an ill body.

Suddenly she shifted, her breathing pattern changing. Her eyes opened slightly and she blinked sleepily up at him. "Feeling any better?" she asked him.

He nodded and she reached her hand up to his forehead, the cloth having disappeared somewhere within the night.

"You no longer feel warm, that's good. Think you can eat something?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'll make you some tea and toast, stay here. Once you eat that, and if you keep it down, I'll heat up some of the soup Mrs. Hudson made." She slipped out from beneath the blanket, yawning as she padded from the room.

Sherlock rubbed at his face with his hands, wiping the sleep from his eyes before moving his hands through his curls. He desperately needed a shower, having sweated half the night away thanks to his fever.

Molly returned several minutes later with the tea and toast. He sat up, leaning back against the pillows.

"See, I told you, you'd survive!" she said to him as she sat herself down beside him and offered him the plate of toast.

He sniffed and took a piece of toast. They ate silently for a time, between intervals of drinking their tea. Once they were both finished he took a shower while she cleaned up their dishes. The rest of the day was spent lazing on the sofa together watching crap telly.

The following morning Sherlock, in spite of Molly's protestations that he should still rest, returned full-fledged to solving murders and any other interesting case Scotland Yard could give him.

Molly returned to work as well, having missed nearly a week due to her being sick then Sherlock. While in the lab she took a blood sample and tested herself for pregnancy. When the test came back negative she didn't know exactly how to feel. Was she relieved? Or was she disappointed? Perhaps a little bit of both.

That evening when she returned home he was sat at his microscope, studying samples he had gathered at the crime scene he had visited earlier that day. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, having not even bothered to take off her coat.

His kept his eyes on his microscope. "Molly … just say whatever it is. Wavering in the doorway won't help."

She stepped into the kitchen and he looked up at her, their eyes meeting. "I'm not pregnant. I did a test at the lab," she said to him.

He returned his gaze to his microscope. "Yes I know. I deduced that as soon as I became sick."

"Oh. I uhm … I'm going to go take a shower."

"Okay."

Now Molly definitely didn't know how she felt, Sherlock's offhanded way of brushing off her lack of pregnancy somewhat threw her. They needed to have that conversation, especially since they were planning on getting married. But when? And how? It was clear to her that he was working on a case, so now was definitely not the time to do so.

A few days later, with still no baby conversation, Sherlock ended up with a case that took him away for an entire week; a double murder in Liverpool. When he returned home to 221B, he made certain to show Molly exactly how much he had missed her.

She was just settling down to a nice quiet meal of Chinese takeaway when he walked into the flat. He hadn't texted her that he was on his way home, the bastard, preferring to surprise her. Molly barely gave him any time for him to remove his scarf and Belstaff before she threw herself into his arms. Both scarf and coat fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Neither one of them gave any thought to foreplay; he was far too desperate to bury his cock deep inside of her, and she was just as desperate for him to do so. They didn't even make it to the bed, only managing to travel as far as the bedroom door. For a few minutes they fumbled with the removal of trousers and pants between desperate kisses, but once that was taken care of he entered her with one swift thrust. He knew that she was wet and ready for him, she always was.

She clung tightly to him as he pressed her against the door. Her legs hooked around his hips as he entered her, making sure to fill her with his entire length every time before pulling out of her, only to fill her once more. The door rattled in its frame with his repeated movements.

It was times like these that neither one of them lasted long. Molly came with a loud cry, and after one particularly hard thrust Sherlock followed her, groaning out her name into her neck.

He carried her to the bed then, and gently eased her down onto the mattress. Once he undressed himself he helped her out of her clothes, then pulled her further upwards so that her head came to rest on one of the pillows.

"Hello …" she murmured huskily to him as he hovered over her.

They both had hardly spoken a word from the moment he walked in the door.

"Hello!" he answered back before he leaned downwards and kissed her.

"Mmmm!" She brought her hand up and carded her fingers through his curls. "I've missed you."

"Missed you too." He shifted his weight, placing his knees on either side of her hips so that he could bring his hands up to massage her breasts.

She moaned softly, arching her back into his touch while he rolled her nipples between his fingertips. She loved it when he returned home from a case that had taken him away, because he always made sure to lavish her entire body with attention.

Once he had his fill of her breasts, making sure to use his mouth and tongue on each of them, he moved further downwards, nipping and lapping at her skin until he nestled himself between her legs. He gently eased them further apart, feeling his cock already beginning to twitch and harden once more.

Perhaps most men found it rather repulsive to go down upon a woman who was covered in their combined bodily fluids, but he rather liked it, and Molly most certainly never seemed to mind.

He licked her clean, finding the taste an intriguing one. She was quickly becoming a moaning, begging mess because he had purposely avoided touching her clit or her beckoning centre. A fresh flow of juices greeted him when he dragged his tongue up and down her folds.

"Sherlock please!" she whimpered.

He raised his head. "Please what?"

She swore loudly. "I hate you so much sometimes!"

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before giving her a Cheshire cat grin. "What is it that you want?"

She looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "You know what I want."

"Tell me."

She swore again. "I want your tongue on me."

"Where? Here?" He dipped his head down and slid the tip of his tongue across the top of where her curls began.

She squeaked slightly. "Lower!" she panted.

"Here?" His voice was slightly muffled as he dipped his tongue into the very top of her labia.

A small noise of frustration. "A little further down."

"Ahhh … you mean here!" He teased the area directly above her aching nub.

She gave another loud curse. "NO! ON MY CLIT DAMNIT!"

Her loud exclamation was met with a chuckle before he at last gave her exactly what she wanted. She moaned loudly, clutching at his head with her hands as he lapped at her clit, flicking it with his tongue. He loved the feel of it, and the noises she made due to his ministrations. It would never cease to fascinate him how such a small part of her body could contain so much pleasure.

As her moans grew louder, he increased the speed of his tongue, and when her hips lifted upwards, a sure sign that she was close, he thrust two of his fingers into her bringing her directly to her peak. She screamed out his name, her fingernails digging into his scalp. He held his fingers inside of her, dragging his tongue across, and up, and down her clit as her body shivered beneath him. When she gave his curls a tug he pulled his mouth away from her and slid out his fingers.

Her breasts were rising and falling at a rapid rate as she fought to catch her breath. He sat up, his eyes meeting hers as he took his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. When he was done he stretched himself out along side of her before gently rolling her onto her side, his erection coming to rest on her hip bone. He tucked himself around her, his chest pressed against her back. He draped an arm over her, just underneath her breasts so that he could brush a fingertip across her tender nipple.

His mouth was on the back of her neck, suckling and nipping at her skin, making certain to leave a few marks that he knew she would have to cover with a scarf or a high collared shirt. He let out a muffled curse into her neck when he felt her hand wrap around his cock. She thumbed at the tip, giving him a tender squeeze before dancing her fingertips up and down the length of him.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, lifting his head up. She turned her head so that she could look at him, smiling wickedly. She shifted her body ever so slightly, just enough so that she could angle her head better for a kiss.

As the kiss deepened he slipped his hand underneath her leg raising it slightly, wrapping his fingers around her inner thigh. He eased his hips back until he was able to nestle the head of his cock directly against her wet entrance. She moaned into his mouth as he slid himself into her.

He wasn't able to enter her quite as deeply as he would have liked from this angle, but she still felt incredible around him. They parted for breath, but their eyes stayed locked on each others as he continued to thrust into her. She reached back with one hand, clutching at his arse cheek, pulling him closer against her. He nipped at her shoulder with his teeth as her eyes fell closed, and she leaned the back of her head against him. He placed open-mouthed kisses along her jawline as she continued to moan softly.

With a slight shift of his hips he was able to enter her more fully. He groaned into her shoulder then watched in awe as she slipped her other hand downwards stopping when her fingertips reached her clit. He watched fascinated as she swirled her fingers around the tender nub.

"Sherlock!" she gasped out.

Her moans grew louder now as he began to thrust into her harder. She turned her head and their lips met in a passionate kiss as she continued to stroke her clit. He held tightly onto her leg, increasing his speed until they both cried out in unison. Their bodies stilled, his forehead resting against hers, panting against her lips. Ever so slowly he eased down her leg and slid his now-softened cock out of her. She twisted her body around so that she could cradle his face in her hands and pull him in for another passionate kiss, her breasts pressed up against his chest.

Once they parted Molly curled up beside him, brushing her fingertips lazily up and down his abdomen. Now that they were both fully sated, and their breathing had returned to a more normal rate, Sherlock asked the one question that his mind hadn't been able to stop thinking about the entire time he had been away:

"Do you not want children?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aheh … you didn’t think I was going to let that one by did you?! Hope you don’t hate me for her not being pregnant … YET. 
> 
> Also, I have this total headcanon that Sherlock would be a complete and utter drama queen/baby (aren’t most men?!) when he is sick :-P
> 
> Let me know what you think! :D I love all your comments!


	23. Do You Not Want Children?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in updating. Been busy with work and real life, BLEH! Much rather prefer spending my time writing more Sherlolly ;) Also, I’ve been spending my time writing my little Christmas Sherlolly ficlets … there will probably another long delay between the next chapter … sorry! Just working out some ideas …
> 
> Anyway, bring on the baby discussion!

* * *

"Do you not want children?" Sherlock asked her.

Molly was certain that he had long ago deduced that, yes, she did want children, but the fact that he was asking her in this way surprised her. Instead of spewing out what he knew about her, as he used to always do, he was now allowing her to speak for herself.

She shifted until her breasts were pressed against his chest, her legs resting on either side of his hips, and her head tucked under his chin. He slipped first one arm over her waist, then the other, his fingertips resting on either hip. She could hear the steady beat of his heart.

"Yes. Yes, I do want children. Someday," she replied.

"Someday?" He moved one of his hands to the small of her back.

"Yeah … someday."

"Not … now?"

She had never heard him sound so uncertain before. Lifting herself up, she peered down at him, faintly making out the contours of his face from the pale light of the moon that was coming from the window.

"I … uhh … I don't know," she stammered out.

He furrowed his brows. "You're not getting any younger."

Normally she would have a snide retort but at this moment she had nothing to give, except a meek little, "I know."

Several beats of silence fell.

She turned her eyes away from his strong gaze. "Do you … you want kids?" She still couldn't bring herself to look at him.

His reply came quickly, "Yes."

Her eyes flew up to meet his, widened in shock.

He smile. "I know, a bit surprising isn't it?"

"Surprising, yes, I never exactly thought you were the paternal type."

He gave a shrug. "Yes well … I find children to be entirely fascinating. They are underappreciated all of the time. Children can see and understand things in ways adults cannot. I admit though that I never actually thought I would have a chance to have a child of my own; I'm sure I'd be a rubbish father, but the thought of creating a new life … is a pleasant idea."

Molly smiled widely. "You want to have a child with me?"

"No … I want to with the woman who lives down the street. Of course I mean with you!"

She dug her nails lightly into his shoulder. "Arse!" She let out a shriek when he flipped her over onto her back, his body now hovering over hers. She couldn't stop smiling.

"Let's make a baby," she breathed softly.

Sherlock chuckled and shook his head slowly. "Molly, Molly, we can't just have sex and expect to get pregnant straight away. You're still on the pill, for one, and there's an entire scientific aspect to becoming pregnant. There is a lot of research I'll need to do …"

She reached up and took his face in her hands, his eyes meeting hers. "Fine then, let's just shag, because I desperately need you  _again_."

He continued to shake his head. "And you have the nerve to comment about my libido!"

Before he could say another word, she pulled him down to her and kissed him deeply.

* * *

Molly had been lost in thought the entire day. Twice an intern had to stop her, telling her that she was using the wrong tool. Blushing profusely she desperately tried to force her mind to focus, but it just wouldn't work. At last she gave up and went to go speak with Mike.

"I don't know what's the matter with me," she said to him. "My mind just keeps wandering today. I'm sorry Mike, I feel like I'm going to do more damage than good in the morgue. I've already made a complete arse of myself in front of a couple of interns."

Mike considered her for a moment. "Take the rest of the day off, and see how you feel tomorrow all right?"

She nodded then left his office and went to gather her things. Once in a cab her mind started to wander again. She knew exactly what it was that was distracting her so much; it had been dancing at the forefront of her mind all day. She just hadn't want to pay attention to it, but now she clearly had no choice.

Sherlock wasn't at home when she arrived at Baker Street. She knew that he had a case. After changing out of her work clothes and into a pair of her rattiest pyjamas, she made herself a cup of tea and went and sat upon the sofa. Toby crawled up onto her lap, happy to have her home so early. He was purring contentedly.

By the time Sherlock arrived home it had already grown dark. Molly was still sat upon the sofa, her tea long ago finished. She was staring blankly ahead, with Toby curled up on her lap, absent-mindedly twisting her engagement ring about her finger.

Sherlock hadn't even noticed she was on the sofa until he'd taken off his Belstaff and scarf. He stood staring at her for several moments, finding her current state to be rather odd; very un-Molly-like. Usually she greeted him at the door, wrapping her arms about him and pulling him in for a kiss. Also, she shouldn't be home right now, she should still be at work, with three more hours left to her shift.

"Molly?"

She gave no answer. She continued to stare ahead, spinning her ring about her finger.

"Molly?!"

He moved closer to her. She didn't budged, entirely unaware of his presence. He sat down next to her and gave her shoulder a nudge.

"MOLLY!"

She jumped her eyes widening, before she began to blink rapidly, turning to look at him. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "I kept saying your name, you weren't responding!"

"Oh, sorry," she said and looked down at Toby in her lap. "Now you know what it's like when you're in your bloody Mind Palace."

He huffed. "Why are you home? You're supposed to still be at work! Are you sick again?" He moved his hand up to press it to her forehead but she swatted it away.

She moved to her feet, Toby growling in annoyance at being disturbed. Sherlock watched her as she started to pace, wringing her hands.

"Molly?"

He had told her that he wouldn't deduce her anymore, that he would allow her to tell him what was bothering her or how she was feeling, or what she was thinking. But at this very moment it was extremely tempting to do so, to find out what was the matter.

"Sherlock … I …" she started to speak, but her voice faltered.

"Molly come here."

She stopped pacing, hesitated for a moment then returned to the sofa. He pulled her onto his lap with his arms about her and she didn't resist, burying her face into his chest.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, his voice muddled by her hair.

"Can we – can we wait to start having kids?" her question came out slowly, with a tint of fear in her voice.

She felt him relax beneath her, but his hold on her tightened.

"Is that it?" he said.

She nodded.

He sighed. "Well I'm grateful for that."

She leaned back and looked up at him. "Why? What did you think I was going to say?"

"Well …" His eyes drifted away from hers for a moment. "You kept fingering your engagement ring. I thought that perhaps you were regretting agreeing to marry me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why would I regret that?"

He shrugged. "Because I'm …  _me_!"

Molly shook her head. "That's the whole reason why I want to marry you!" She laid her head back down against his chest, this time her cheek coming to rest upon his shirt.

Both were silent for several moments.

"So … can we?" she asked.

He moved one of his hands to the small of her back and was gently rubbing it up and down. "If it's what you want."

She tilted her body so that she could peer up at him and he could look down at her. "It is. And it's for entirely selfish reasons."

He raised his eyebrows then smiled slightly when a faint blush came to her cheeks.

"I want you all to myself," she explained. "At least for a little while, a year perhaps. Having a child changes everything. I want it to just be us … not for forever, just for a little bit."

His smile grew larger before he leaned down and kissed her gently, moving his hand up to cradle the back of her head. "All right," he murmured against her lips. "I like your reasoning."

"So you're not upset with me?"

He shook his head. "No. Why would I be?"

She gave a slight shrug. "I don't know. It's just … that whole conversation we had about having kids and all-"

He cut her off. "Molly … deciding to have children requires an agreement from both of us. And right now, I agree with you, I don't mind waiting. I rather like the idea of continuing with it just being the two of us for now. Once a child enters into our lives, everything will be different. Deciding to create a life and bring it into the world is not something that should be thought of lightly."

She reached up, and pulled him down to her for a deep kiss. "I love you Sherlock Holmes."

"And I love you soon-to-be Molly Holmes."

She chuckled against his mouth as she kissed him again. The kiss deepened and he shifted both of their bodies so that they could stretch out on the sofa. Toby returned, curling up on top of their legs. Sherlock glared at the feline but Molly quickly distracted Sherlock by giving his curls a gentle tug before pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

Several days later Molly was sat upon the kitchen table, wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns, and holding a small container of ice cream in her hand and a spoon. It was her scheduled day off and she was determined to enjoy it in anyway she deemed fit.

"Must you eat it like that?" Sherlock sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

"What's it to you? It's cherry and vanilla! The flavour you don't like!" she stated, flourishing with her spoon before delving back into the ice cream.

He watched mesmerized as she sucked off the cream from the spoon, licking it slowly until it was clean. He blinked rapidly, then glared at her when he realized she had done all of that on purpose. She only smiled innocently at him and proceeded to continue eating. He grumbled quietly, forcing himself to look away from her. He had every intention of starting a new experiment and would not allow her to distract him.

"Oops!" she exclaimed softly.

He turned and looked at her.

"Oh dear what a mess I've made!" she said.

She had spilled several drops of ice cream onto the dressing gown, right between the dip of her breasts. She dropped the spoon into the container then placed it onto the table before pushing herself to her feet.

"Guess I'll just have to take it off!" she announced.

She slowly began to untie the knot, blatantly ignoring the fact that Sherlock was standing frozen watching her. As soon as the knot was untied, the dressing gown falling open slightly to reveal she wore nothing underneath, she stopped and looked up at him.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

From the moment she had said 'oops' her voice had taken on an entirely different tone. Soft, lilting, a little bit too sweet, and innocent. He narrowed his eyes then strode over to her.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he growled.

She blinked up at him. "Doing what?"

"Molly … stop it!"

She continued to stare up at him. "Stop what? I'm not doing anything."

He grumbled slightly. "You're trying to seduce me."

"Seduce you?" She let out a bark of laughter. "I didn't think you were the seducible type! I was merely just enjoying my ice cream when I accidentally spilled some on myself. That's all." She batted her eyelashes and that was the final straw.

He let out another low growl and planted his hands on either side of her, locking her between him and the table. She continued to stare up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Pay back," he snarled.

"Oh? Well in that case..." She reached up her hands and pushed the dressing gown from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor so that she was now stood naked before him.

He swallowed, his eyes drifting down to her breasts. She smiled slightly, before reaching off to the side and picking up the container of ice cream.

"You don't mind if I continue eating, do you?" she asked. "Otherwise it will melt. Please proceed, in whatever you were planning on doing."

She dipped her spoon into the now very-soft ice cream and scooped out a generous amount. She slowly licked it off the spoon, keeping her eyes locked on Sherlock's. He wasn't looking at her though; instead he was watching her mouth and tongue. Suddenly he reached up and grabbed the container away from her and the spoon as well.

"Hey!" she cried out. "I was eating that!"

He placed both down onto the table, stepping closer to her. "Yes, in a very seductive way I might add."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me seductive?"

"Yes."

She smiled up at him.

"Well played Miss Hooper."

Her smile widened. "Can your experiment wait?"

"You've left me with no choice but to hold it off until a later time," he replied.

"What do you plan to do then?"

He tilted himself closer to her. "Lean back." His voice was deeper, huskier.

She did as he asked, the cheeks of her bum pressing slightly into the edge of the table, her breasts tipping upwards towards him. He swallowed again then reached out blindly, not removing his gaze from her breasts, to grab up the spoon and dip it into the now almost entirely melted ice cream. She let out a gasp when he drizzled the melted cream over her nipples.

A soft whimper escaped her throat as he dipped his head down and lapped off the creamy confection with his tongue. He didn't touch her distended nipples though, only circling around them. They positively ached from the coldness of the ice cream. She whimpered again when he drizzled more onto her skin and repeated the action. He did this one more time, her moans filling the kitchen, before he at last took a nipple into her mouth and gave it a long, drawn out suck before moving to the other one.

"You know Molly …" he murmured, "this may not be my favourite flavour of ice cream, but paired with the taste of your skin … mmm … I find it to be quite delicious." He latched onto her nipple and gave it another suck.

By the time he licked her breasts clean she was a panting mess. She pulled him to her for a searing kiss, tasting the vanilla and cherry on his tongue. He grabbed her about the hips and lifted her up, placing her on top of the table. She hooked her legs around his waist, locking her ankles below the cheeks of his arse.

As they continued to kiss she moved her hands to the front of his shirt and began to unbutton it. Holding onto her hip with one hand he moved his other to undo his trousers. Within moments he was as naked as she, his erection jutting up against her. She moaned into his mouth when he nudged the head of his cock along her wet folds. Dropping her hand down, she wrapped it around his length and positioned him at her opening. He broke apart the kiss and shook his head, breathing heavily. She gave him a questioning look.

He grabbed her about the hips again and pulled her forward onto her feet as he stepped back. Before she could say anything he spun her about, his chest pressing against her back, his cock nestled between the cheeks of her arse.

"Bend over, Molly," he murmured into her ear. "Lean on the table."

Her breath hitched slightly, but she did as he asked, certain that she was growing wetter at the thought of what they were about to do. He nudged her legs further apart and stepped slightly away from her.

She was on perfect display for him, pink and glistening. She turned her head slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. He stepped forward, his legs touching the back of hers, and he slid into her wet, welcoming heat until he was nestled fully inside of her.

"Mmmm … oh!" she moaned, grabbing tightly onto the edges of the table. He held firmly onto her hips, slowly easing himself in and out of her, reveling in the sensation that this new position was giving the pair of them. The only sounds were their mutual moans and skin slapping against skin. He eventually quickened the pace, the need for it becoming too great. She was moaning repeatedly. Suddenly she began to swivel her hips back and forth, intensifying the feeling that their joined bodies were creating.

"Fuck! Molly!" he groaned, digging his fingertips into her hips.

He was thrusting hard into her now, his balls slapping against her loudly. Releasing one of his hands from her hip he dropped it under their joined bodies and began to stroke her clit. She cried out and her hips grew still as her orgasm took over, he gave several more solid thrusts before emptying himself into her with a loud groan.

He fell against her, his forehead resting against her back. Both of them were panting heavily. After a few more moments he lifted himself up and slid his softening cock out of her. He helped her up as well then pulled her towards the bathroom.

Instead of turning on the shower he filled up the tub. She leaned against him, her head on his chest as they waited for it to fill with water. He put his arms about her and held her close. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart.

"You're not allowed to eat ice cream anymore," he stated firmly.

She let out a giggle and brought her hands up to his curls, tugging them slightly. He dropped his head down for a kiss. By the time they parted the tub was ready. She stepped into the water and he followed her in, both of them easing themselves down into the warmth.

Molly let out a satisfied sigh, curling herself against him. He put his arm about her, and placed a kiss on her temple. For several minutes neither one of them spoke. Her hand was on his chest and she was admiring her ring. Sherlock brought his hand up and placed his palm on top of hers, brushing his thumb over the diamond.

She tilted her head slightly and looked up at him. "You're mother won't stop texting me about the wedding, Sherlock. She seems to have taken the idea into her head that she is going to plan it for us!"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it Molly. She's  _not_  going to take over the planning of our wedding."

Molly looked at him questioningly. "She isn't? She seems quite determined to do so!"

Sherlock snorted slightly. "No _p_ e. She won't. She can't."

She rolled her eyes when he popped the 'p' in his usual manner. "And why is that?"

"Because  _I_  am going to be our wedding planner."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh dear :D 
> 
> I just had to, with the whole episode where Sherlock is helping John and Mary with their wedding … I knew I just had to make Sherlock, his and Molly’s wedding planner ;) This is gonna be fun! *rubs hands together with glee*
> 
> Also, I hope no one is too disappointed with how I handled the baby discussion; I do want them to have kids … just not … yet ;)


	24. I am going to be Our Wedding Planner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? AN UPDATE?! :O
> 
> I am so sorry for how long it has been! I feel terrible! I wish that I could have updated sooner but I had family visiting, then it was Christmas, then I was sick, and to top it all I had an awful touch of Writer’s Block. BAH!!
> 
> Anywho, I am so glad to be back writing. I must admit though, I struggled for a bit with ideas and this chapter turned out entirely different then I originally intended it to. 
> 
> ALSO this chapter is, I believe, the longest so far, over 7,000 words!! =O 
> 
> Once I started I just couldn’t stop, and there wasn’t anywhere that I could cut it off and not ruin the flow. I doubt anyone really minds though … at least I hope not!
> 
> Oh and another thing, there is quite a bit of smut in this chapter … heh … I HIGHLY doubt any of you mind that! :-P hehe
> 
> There is a particular smutty scene in this chapter that I dedicate fully to MizJoely and Megsta95 … I think you’ll see why when you read it ;)

* * *

"Because  _I_  am going to be our wedding planner," Sherlock declared firmly.

Molly blinked at him like a myopic owl. "You actually mean that?"

He let out a snort of derision. "Of course I do! Didn't you know I helped the Watson's plan theirs?"

She shifted her body slightly, the water in the bath sloshing along the sides. "Well uhm, yeah, I do recall Mary mentioning that once or twice. Are you entirely sure that you want to? It requires a lot of work, doesn't it?"

He shrugged. "I never deleted any of the data I acquired while planning theirs, thinking that perhaps it would come in use for a case." He paused and turned and looked at her, his gaze softening. "I must admit, I never once considered the possibility that I would use the information for …  _us_."

She bit down on her bottom lip before curling herself back up against him. He tightened his hold around her. They lay like this silently for several minutes.

"When should we have the wedding?" She tilted her head back slightly in order to peer up at him.

He answered quickly. "In the spring of course. That's your favourite season."

She giggled slightly. "But what about your favourite season?"

"Mmm … don't have one. Never really thought much of it."

"Liar."

Sherlock raised both eyebrows as he looked down at her. "Am I?"

"Yes," she replied. "Winter is your favourite season, because it's bitter cold out and you can pop the collar of your beloved Belstaff, and wear it all the time without looking ridiculous."

He grumbled as he leaned further back into the bath. She smiled triumphantly, slipping her leg in-between both of his, her bare breasts brushing up against his rib cage. He stared defiantly at the wall ahead of him.

"To get married before this winter is over would require a rush job," he stated. "I'd rather not have the wedding until everything is perfectly planned, and I am not waiting until it is winter again to make you my wife; we're getting married in the spring."

She bit back another giggle. "Yes sir!"

He rolled his eyes wearily before saying, "Second Saturday in May. What do you think?" He looked down at her.

"Sounds perfect," she said.

He smiled. "9th of May it is then."

* * *

January passed by quickly. A little too quickly. It was almost as if the month had barely existed. Molly had had to take double shifts multiple times every week, due to a lack of pathologists; one had left on maternity leave, and another had gone on holiday. Sherlock kept himself busy with cases, thus resulting in them hardly seeing each other, only really ever communicating via text messaging.

Not since that time in the bath had there been any further mention of their wedding. Molly thought that perhaps Sherlock had placed that to the back of his mind, in order to focus on his cases.

They were now nearing the end of the first week of February and Molly's schedule was slowly returning to normalcy. Sherlock texted her that he had solved his most recent case, and that John had threatened him with murder if he decided to take up another one. John was not very appreciative in the fact that he kept being taken away from his wife and daughter for such long periods of time.

When Molly arrived home she found Sherlock clad in his dressing gown and sprawled across the sofa, an electronic device clasped in his hands. She was rather surprised by this, expecting him to be passed out in their bed as he so often did after a long case. Instead he appeared to be so lost in whatever he was looking at that he hadn't even noticed when Molly entered the flat.

"Why are you on my tablet?" she asked. " Your laptop suddenly not good enough for you?" She was stood beside him, her hands upon her hips. "Reading my journal?" She tried her best to look angry.

Sherlock shot up and spluttered, his eyes widening. He knew all too well how she could be when she was annoyed, but when she started to laugh he visibly relaxed.

"I really don't care, read away!" She waved her hand dismissively and began to remove her coat. "I don't have any secrets from you."

After hanging up her coat she returned to the sofa. Her tablet was turned off and on the coffee table.

"You look exhausted," she said to him. "Why aren't you in bed, asleep?"

He grabbed her hand and tugged her down towards him. She toed off her shoes and curled herself up against him.

"I wanted to see you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "You look tired as well."

"Oh God, I am!" she said. "My feet and back are aching. I just want to sleep for days. Teach me your ways, Sherlock!"

He chuckled, putting his arm around her and enveloping her in his warmth. She sighed happily, snuggling into his chest.

"Are you hungry?" She was nuzzling the dressing gown with her nose, breathing in his scent.

"No. Mrs. Hudson brought me up tea and sandwiches a little while ago. Are you?"

She shook her head. "No. I ate in the canteen."

"Good."

Suddenly, without another word, Sherlock scooped Molly up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. After laying her down upon the mattress he untied his robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing that he wore nothing beneath it. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"There will be time enough for  _that_  later," he stated firmly. "Right now I desperately need sleep, and I know that you do as well."

She had to agree; her body as well as her mind was exhausted. As he slid beneath the sheets and duvet she got up off the bed and removed her clothes. Now as naked as he, she slipped beneath the sheets and he grabbed her, pulling her flush up against him.

"Mmm … I've missed the feel of your skin against mine," she murmured, peppering his chest with kisses.

He ran his hand up and down her back, faintly massaging her with his fingertips. "So have I."

Within minutes the pair of them were fast asleep. When they both woke it was nearing late morning of the next day. Molly was certain she had never slept for such a long length of time, in one go before.

Sherlock stretched, yawning loudly before he turned to face her. She was blinking sleepily. He grabbed her about the hips, dragging her to him, and when her body was tucked up against his he cupped her bum in his hands. He kissed her then and she moaned into his mouth, his hardening length touching her belly. She sighed his name against his lips.

When she gave him a gentle push he ended the kiss and looked at her, confusion etched upon his face. She returned his gaze with a look of disappointment.

"I have to be at work in less than an hour Sherlock," she said to him. "I meant to set an alarm and completely forgot."

He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder, grumbling unhappily. "Call in sick, I need you." He nipped at her skin.

She brought her hands up to his curls, massaging his scalp. "I wish that I could, but we're still short-staffed. I'm sorry Sherlock. I  _need_  you too." She nuzzled his ear with her nose. "You can shower with me, if you promise to behave!"

He let out a low growl before lifting himself off of her, and pulling her up from the mattress. They quickly showered, and he did behave, in spite of the fact that he desperately didn't want to. After a quick bite to eat, Molly left him pouting in his chair.

It was not even thirty minutes later, after she had gotten to work and settled herself into her first autopsy of the evening, that Sherlock strolled into the morgue. She was surprised to see him, for he hadn't texted her that he would be stopping by.

"New case?" she asked him.

He gave her a tender kiss before answering her. "No. Since we can't shag,  _yet_ , and the only cases in my inbox are boring ones, I thought I'd come to Bart's and watch you work. I miss your company."

She blushed but found herself smiling. "All right then."

She settled back into work, and Sherlock made himself comfortable in a nearby chair. He watched her for a time then became distracted by his phone. When he suddenly sat up very straight, Molly turned and looked at him.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes … just reading something, that's all," he replied, not looking up from his phone.

She finished up the autopsy and wheeled the body back into storage, snapping off her gloves before chucking them in the bin. After washing her hands she gathered up her recorder.

"Sherlock, I'm going to go to my office now," she said to him, "to write up my report."

His eyes snapped up from his phone and met hers. "All right. I think I have a case. I'll see you later." His words came out in a rush. He grabbed up his coat and threw it on, wrapping his scarf about his neck before bending down to plant a kiss upon her mouth. "I'll text you."

"Ok." She watched him walk out of the morgue, before following him but turning in the opposite direction towards her office.

The hours wore on without any texts from Sherlock. She focused her mind on other things, filling out reports and doing more autopsies. Occasionally her mind would drift back to when she had come upon him with her tablet. He hadn't told her why he was using it, and she hadn't asked questions. But every now and then she would start to wonder what it was that he had been doing with it. She wasn't bothered by the fact, just curious.

The night was a slow one, graveyard shifts usually were. Molly was grateful that this would be her last one for quite a while. Surprisingly though, she didn't feel the least bit tired. Just as midnight rolled around she heard her text tone ping. She was in the middle of an autopsy and didn't want to bother with taking off her gloves and washing her hands so she waited until she had finished. Thirteen minutes later the body had been wheeled away.

 _Happy Birthday!_   _xoxox_ – Mn

Molly couldn't help but smile. Meena had started a tradition a few years back that directly at the moment of your birthday she had to send a text. Molly texted back a thank you before taking note that she still hadn't heard from Sherlock. She rolled her eyes, thinking that he was probably locked away in his Mind Palace, oblivious to the passing hours.

A few minutes later her text tone pinged again. She grabbed up her phone and saw that it was from Sherlock.

 _I've got a case. It will take me out of London for at least a day, possibly two. Sorry that I'll be missing your birthday._  – SH

Molly bit down on her lip. So he did remember. She let out a disappointed sigh, before typing back.

 _That's quite all right. You'll just have to make it up to me ;)_  – Mx

 _Don't worry, I intend to_. – SH

The rest of her shift passed by quickly, and Molly was glad when it was time for her to go home. When she reached Baker Street, the sky brightening with the early morning light, she entered the building of 221B and slowly began to make her way up the stairs. She was humming quietly to herself. It wasn't a very upbeat song that she was humming, for she was not in a very upbeat mood.

Ever since she had left her teens behind her she hadn't exactly thought much of birthdays. Usually Meena would take her out to some posh restaurant for dinner, and then they would go back to her flat and gorge on red wine and ice cream, while watching a marathon of chick-flicks. It wasn't much, but she always enjoyed it.

This year, now that she was with Sherlock,  _engaged_  to Sherlock, she had hoped that they would be spending the evening together in bed. That's all that she really wanted, a delicious marathon of shagging with the man she loved. But no, he had to take a case.

Molly knew that she was being ridiculous, acting like a disappointed child, but she couldn't help it. They hadn't had sex for such a long time, and she was desperate for him. Now it would seem that she would have to wait just a little bit longer.

She let out a sigh, her humming coming to an end as she opened the door to their flat and stepped inside. She came to a standstill when she noticed a tall, dark figure in the middle of the main room. She lett out a squeak when the figure moved towards her into the light.

Her eyes widened in shock. The tall, dark figure was no stranger, but in fact Sherlock. Although he looked nothing like himself. His curls were slicked back, and he was dressed entirely in black; tight trousers and a formfitting long sleeve shirt.

Her mouth dropped open, noting how very much so he looked like a certain someone. "Sherlock … what - I thought you were out on a case!"

He continued to move forward. "That is not my name. My name is  _Khan_."

Her eyes widened further, all of the pieces of the puzzle that had been buzzing about in her mind, falling into place.  _This_ was why he had been on her tablet.

He was stood directly in front of her now, allowing her to see that the shirt he was wearing had upon it the Starfleet insignia. She felt herself blush at the thought that he had gone to such an extent to fulfill one of her fantasies. He reached out and ran his hand up along the length of her arm, his eyes meeting hers.

"Now Doctor Hooper …," he murmured, his voice dropping low and deep, "shall we begin?"

"Begin-begin what?" she squeaked out.

A slow, rather predatory looking smile came upon his face. "My ravishing of your body," he replied.

Her eyes grew even larger, her mouth dropping open. His smile widened before he lifted her up in his arms, tossing her over his shoulder. She let out a shriek as he did this, carrying her into their bedroom. Once he kicked the door shut behind them he placed her down onto the floor.

"Off with these, Doctor Hooper," he demanded, giving her jumper a slight tug.

She did as he asked, pulling off the jumper and taking her shirt with it. Leaving herself clad in her bra, she undid her trousers and pulled them down after toeing off her shoes and removing her socks. All the while he watched her until she stood before him in only her bra and knickers.

"Continue." He beckoned to the fabric that still lay upon her body.

She reached behind her and undid the clasp, letting her bra drop to the floor before hooking her fingers beneath the fabric of her knickers and pushing them down. There was an obvious wet patch in the very centre of her pants. He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel his body heat.

"Undress me." He spoke these words in a hoarse whisper.

The apex between her thighs was positively aching now. She took a hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards. He raised his arms and she lifted off the shirt, tossing it to the floor to join her clothes, before running her hands down over his chest.

"Now my trousers."

She undid the zip, grabbing the fabric on either side of his hips and tugging it downwards. His erection sprang free, revealing that he wasn't wearing any pants. He stepped away from her slightly, so that he could take off his own shoes and socks, before she continued to remove his trousers. Now they both stood entirely naked before each other. Molly was breathing heavily, in anticipation of what he planned to do.

Suddenly he spun her about, his firm, bare chest pressed against her back, his hardened length nestled between the cheeks of her arse. His hand that he had splayed out across her abdomen moved downwards until he could dip a finger between her folds, giving her soaked clit a few swipes with his fingertip.

"Ohhh…!" she moaned.

"Bend over," he murmured hoarsely into ear. "Lie upon the bed."

She stepped away from his embrace, and did as he asked, her breasts coming to rest upon the mattress before spreading her legs. She could feel his body heat as he situated himself directly behind her. He nudged her parted, glistening folds with the head of his erection.

"Where do you want me to put my cock, Doctor Hooper?"

Sherlock had never been one for dirty talk, but clearly acting as someone else he didn't seem to mind. He slid the tip up and down her slit several more times before repeating his question. "Where do you want me to put my cock, Doctor Hooper?"

"Mmmm! Ohhhh … in my pussy!" she panted out. "Please! I want your cock in my pu-pussy!" She'd never spoken that word in Sherlock's presence before and felt herself blushing darkly.

He stopped his teasing and dipped the head directly into her wet entrance, allowing it to rest there. "Is this where you want my cock?" He shifted his hips slightly forward, allowing himself to slide into her just a little bit further.

"Yes! Oh yes! FUCK!" she cried.

He delved into her, the bed shaking slightly from his fast movement, and he bottomed out.

"AHH!" she screamed. "Oh fuck me Khan! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Grabbing a hold of her hips he settled himself into an almost punishing pace of deep and fast thrusts. He had never before taken her quite so roughly, but it felt so incredibly good. The hard points of her nipples were being pushed up against the fabric of the sheets each time that he entered her. She felt as if her entire body were on fire with pleasure. She knew that she wasn't going to last much longer, and that when her orgasm hit she was going to come hard.

"How does my cock feel, buried deep inside of your pussy?" he growled out.

Molly let out a slight squeak, as he continued to practically pound into her. "So good!" She panted. "Your cock feels so good! Oh!"

"Are you going to come, Doctor Hooper? Am I going to make you come?"

Molly grabbed tightly onto the sheets, her hands fisting, as his hips continued to smack against her, she was certain there would be bruises later. "YES! I'm so close!" she cried out.

"Don't. Not yet. Don't let yourself come," he commanded. "I want us to come together."

She moaned and pressed her face into the sheet, panting heavily into the fabric as she willed her body to hold back, but this was nearly impossible; what he was doing to her felt so incredibly fantastic!

After several more particularly hard thrusts he let out a curse before saying, "Let go now Doctor Hooper, come with me!"

She screamed his name into the mattress as her orgasm exploded over her. Each of her nerve endings surging with pleasure as the endorphins rushed through her body. She was certain she was going to pass out. He tilted his hips upward, allowing the head of his cock to press directly against her g-spot, lengthening her orgasm. He continued to thrust several more times before growing still, his cock pulsing inside of her, his hips pressed tightly up against the curves of her arse.

After a few moments he slid his softening cock out of her and collapsed beside her. Her face was buried in the sheets, her hands still in fists. He eased her fingers apart, kissing his way up her neck, panting against her skin. She at last turned her face towards him, her skin flushed, breathing heavily. Ever so gently he rolled her onto her back, her legs still hanging off the edge of the bed. He draped an arm across her torso.

"Fucking hell, Sherlock," she gasped out, still regaining her breath.

He flashed her a pleased smile. "Happy Birthday Molly."

"Cheeky git. I thought you didn't enjoy celebrating birthdays?"

He nuzzled her skin, nipping lightly at her jawline with his teeth. "Well … my own I don't care about … but you  _did_  dress up like a pirate wench for me, so I felt that I had to return the favour."

"Mmm … and how!"

She turned her body so that she was facing him more fully. She kissed him then, pressing herself up against him, their tongues performing a dance together.

"Thank you," she murmured against his lips. "Best. Present. Ever." She accentuated each word with a kiss.

Sherlock smiled and kissed her again.

"How did you get your hair to look like this?" She was admiring his new, slicked back do.

"An entire bottle of gel," he replied.

"Really?" She reached up. "My God, your hair is practically solid! It feels awful!"

He scrunched his noses. "It does feel strange to me. I'm used to my hair … moving."

"I don't like it." She settled herself back down, laying her head onto his shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I admire the lengths you went to for me, but I much more prefer your curls. Next time you don't have to do the hair."

"Next time?" he enquired, raising and eyebrow.

"Oh yes, don't think this will be just a one time thing Mr. Holmes." She gave his chest a poke with her finger, before she shifted herself slightly so that she could whisper huskily into his ear. "I'll dress up for you like a pirate wench any time that you want!" She gave his earlobe a nibble, then let out a shriek when he swiftly rolled her once more onto her back, his body now hovering over hers.

"I'll hold you to that," he said.

She smiled cheekily up at him. "Mmm … please do!"

He kissed her then, hushing her up. As the kiss deepened she moved her hands up to the back of his neck. But when she let out a noise of disappointment he moved away and peered down at her.

"I think a shower is in order!" she said. "I don't like that I can't run my fingers through your hair!" She stuck out her bottom lip, in perfect imitation of him pouting.

He reared back onto his knees before helping her up. After sliding off the bed he scooped her into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom. Once they were underneath the fall of hot water, she began to work her fingers through his hair. He grabbed the nearby bottle of shampoo and helped to lather it up.

"There, that's better," she declared, as soon as she was able to work her fingers through his now smooth hair.

He murmured in agreement and closed his eyes when she began to massage his scalp.

"You're like a cat!" she said. "All that's missing is you purring!" She giggled, scraping her nails along his skin ever so slightly.

He grabbed her about the waist and pulled her close up against him. "No I'm not," he spat out and she giggled again.

When he bit down on her neck, directly over her pulse point, she let out a loud, sharp exhalation of air. He moved his hands further downwards until they were able to cup her bum. "I'm not finished with you yet, there's a lot more sex to be had!"

"Glad to hear it!"

He reached out blindly to turn off the water, cradling the back of her head with his other hand and kissed her passionately. She hummed happily against his lips, feeling him hardening against her. She slipped her hand down between their bodies and wrapped it around his length, giving it a few pumps. He cursed against her lips before he picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder very much so in the same manner that he had done earlier. She laughed loudly as he made his way back into their bedroom.

"What about towels?" she cried out. "We're both soaked!"

"What of it?" He tossed her onto the bed as she continued to giggle.

"You're utterly ridiculous!"

He covered her body with his, droplets from his hair falling onto her skin. "You love it."

"Mmm … yeah I do!"

He peered down at her, his eyes trailing over her body. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Before?"

She shook her head. "No. I may have some bruising, but it's all right, every moment of it felt wonderful!" She pulled him down to her for a heated kiss.

Their kiss grew in passion, and with his hot, hard length pressing against her thigh, she could feel the all too familiar ache forming between her legs. She wanted him again.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmm?" He was about to take her breast into his mouth.

"Since it's my birthday, can we try out a new position?" she asked.

He lifted up his head and looked down at her. "We can try out new positions any time that you want; it doesn't have to be just on your birthday."

She giggled. "I know. I do rather like the fact that you enjoy  _experimenting_."

"What's this new position called?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, it has an awful name!"

"Worse than cowgirl?"

She laughed. " Yeah, it's called  _The Octopus_."

"Octo...pus?" Sherlock repeated this slowly.

"Mmmhmm, told you it's terrible!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm rather intrigued, do explain it!"

Molly nibbled on her bottom lip then pulled his head down and whispered into his ear how the position worked.

"Let's do it!" he announced excitedly.

She threw back her head, laughing at his eagerness as he pushed himself off of her. She quickly sat up, watching as he stretched his legs out before him and leaned back on his palms. His erection was jutting out from between his hips, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

She suppressed a moan at the thought of what they were about to do. She crawled over to him then slowly straddled his waist, lowering herself down onto his hot shaft.

"Fuck!" she whimpered, leaning back onto her hands.

Once he was fully seated inside of her she began to lift her left leg up onto his shoulder. He helped, grabbing her ankle, then the other as she lifted her right leg.

A deep guttural sigh erupted from her as he began to move, lifting his hips almost completely off of the bed, before dropping down, allowing her body to delve onto his cock.

"Fuck! Molly!" Sherlock groaned, entirely fascinated by the sight that her spread legs were giving him.

He was hitting her g-spot once more; she knew that she wasn't going to last long. His knees were bent now, she grabbed them for leverage, pulling herself more forward slightly, changing the angle that he was entering her, and also allowing herself to rock her body against his. He watched, mesmerized by the image of her breasts bouncing before him.

Her toes began to curl as her orgasm slowly reached its peak. "Oh God Sherlock!" she panted out.

With a loud cry she stopped her movements, her orgasm coursing through her veins, her legs trembling. He pressed his hips upwards, practically lifting himself off the mattress once again as he moaned her name.

Her arms buckled, the effort it took to hold herself up was too much. It was as if her entire body had turned into rubber. She fell back against the bed, between his legs, panting heavily.

He held himself steady taking several deep breaths before shifting himself onto one hand. He turned his head and gave her left ankle a kiss before slowly easing it down to the bed alongside of him. He did the same with her right leg. Once she was laid out upon the bed he slipped his legs out from along side of her, before laying himself down as well.

Both of their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, their hair still damp from the shower and the effort of their lovemaking. After a minute of gathering his breath he turned and curled against her.

"No idea why that is called  _The Octopus_!" Sherlock said, burying his face in her neck, and suckling at her skin.

"No idea! But it was bloody fantastic!"

He hummed in agreement, and she moaned softly when he brought a hand up to massage her breast.

"I think I'll need some food before we continue on into anything else!" she declared.

He tweaked her nipple with his fingers, still nibbling on her neck. "There's takeaway on the stove. I got all your favourites."

She smiled. "MMM! You do spoil me!"

He lifted up his head and planted a kiss upon her lips. "That is my intention!"

She continued to smile.

"I thought you were hungry?" he questioned.

"I am," she admitted. "In a few minutes. I'm not so sure I can walk yet!"

He chuckled, pulling her close up against him. They kissed for a time, their hands wandering over each other's bodies; exploring, stroking. Only parting when her stomach began to growl. Each of them pulled on a dressing gown and padded slowly out to the kitchen. Toby meowed hungrily at them both, glad to no longer be alone.

"I think I'm going to have to increase my yoga stretches," she noted as she rubbed the back of her thigh while she bent down to pet Toby.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I'm just sore that's all. I didn't pull any muscles. It's a good kind of sore, trust me." She kissed his cheek and began to dish out cat food.

Sherlock put their food onto plates, not wanting to bother with heating anything up. They carried their plates out of the kitchen and sat upon the sofa, Molly draping her legs across his lap. Toby had had his fill and was now curled up on Sherlock's chair, washing his face and paws. Sherlock glared at the cat but said nothing.

He finished eating before Molly did, and after he had placed his empty plate upon the coffee table he pushed her dressing gown to up around her thighs and began to massage her legs.

"Ohh ... that feels nice!" she murmured.

She finished eating and Sherlock took her plate, placing it on top of his. She leaned back into the arm of the sofa as he returned to massaging her.

"How come you told me that you had a case?" She was gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Ahh ... I wanted you to be a bit disappointed," he explained, 'knowing that you're level of excitement in finding out that I was actually here, would only increase your pleasure."

She nudged his arm with her foot. "Berk."

"It worked though, didn't it?" He gave her a charming smile.

"Hmmm ... you're lucky it did."

Silence fell as he continued to massage her legs, slowly moving upwards towards her thighs.

"What made you choose Khan?" she asked after a few moments.

" _Pinterest_ ," he deadpanned.

Molly covered her face with her hands. "Oh God! You found that? How mortifying!"

"You don't mind if I read your journal, but you consider my finding your  _Pinterest_  embarrassing?" He gave her skin a slight pinch with his fingers.

She dropped her hands away. "Yes! I'll have you know though, I pinned those pictures long before we were together!"

He shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. He's a fictional character!"

"Yes, he may be a fictional character, but he's played by a very real, very fit man!" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You do realize you'll never actually meet him?"

She laughed. "Oh I know that! Especially now! You'll probably make your brother throw him out of the country!"

Sherlock sniffed.

"It doesn't matter ..." She gave his arm another nudge with her foot. "He's not you. I only want you."

Sherlock's smile returned. He moved her legs off of him so that he could stretch himself out alongside her. She wrapped her arms about his neck.

"You had quite a few of his mannerisms down …" she said. "Did you watch the movie?"

His gaze shifted away from hers. "Yes. That day when you came home and found me on your tablet, I had just finished watching it. I was bored."

She chuckled. "I suppose that's better than you shooting up the wall! Did you like it?"

He shook his head. "No. It was riddled with mistakes and scientific inaccuracy! The things they did are not possible!"

She rolled her eyes. "It's a movie Sherlock, it's made for enjoyment."

He huffed and she shrugged..

"Well I like it, and I like him. Thank you for watching it ... for my sake." She gave the underside of his jaw a kiss.

Sherlock moved his hand down her back, trailing his fingers over her bum, before reaching her thigh and proceeding with his massaging. Molly let out a noise of contentment. He tipped his head to the side and suckled on her collar bone, sliding his tongue into the soft dip of her skin.

"How exactly did you find out about that ridiculously named position?" His voice rumbled against her skin.

Molly giggled; Sherlock looked up at her, watching the blush come to her cheeks.

"Cosmo mag," she answered. "Meena had it with her the other day when we had lunch together in the canteen. I was perusing it and came across an article about sex positions. I thought it looked interesting."

He returned his mouth to her skin, his fingers continuing to work her sore muscles.

"I must admit defeat though," she said with a sigh.

He lifted his head to look at her. "Defeat?" His brows were furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah," she said. "As fantastic as that felt, I don't think I could ever do it again. It requires a bit too much effort."

He blinked for a second. "Agreed. And as much as I enjoyed the view, you were too far away from me. Not intimate enough."

She giggled again. "Never thought I'd hear you use that word!"

He huffed slightly. "Well it's true, I much more prefer being closer to you, I couldn't touch you at all, and I do like touching you."

As if to put emphasis upon his words he slipped his hand the opening of her dressing gown and gave her slit a stroke with his fingertip. She gasped, her eyes dropping closed, her breath coming in little gasps as he continued to work his finger up and down her folds, but not slipping between them.

"Tsk tsk. So wet for me again, Molly?"he teased.

Her only reply was a soft whimper.

"I prefer being able to put my mouth on you as well," he noted before he pulled his hand out from the dressing gown and quickly undid the knot, pushing the fabric off her shoulder. He dropped his head down to her breasts.

"Ohhhh..." she moaned.

He gave each of her breasts due attention with his mouth, slipping his hand back down between her legs, this time sliding two of his fingers directly between her folds and into her welcoming centre, dragging the pad of his thumb across her clit.

"Fuccckk!" she hissed.

She set her own hand to work, not bothering to undo the knot in his own dressing gown but instead pushing the fabric up over his thigh so that she could take his pulsing cock into her hand.

They worked each other into a frenzy for several minutes, both of them moaning, panting each other's names. Just as she began to feel the familiar tightening in her lower belly, he pulled his fingers out of her. He grabbed at her hand, taking it away from his cock, her juices on his fingers coating hers. The high that they were so close to achieving, ebbed away slightly as they lay there catching their breath.

Before Sherlock could do anything else, Molly grabbed up his hand and sucked her juices off of his fingers. He groaned at the sight. When she dropped his hand away he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her deeply.

As the kiss continued he moved his hand back downwards and lifted her leg up over his hip, before sheathing his cock in her wet, warmth. She gasped against his lips, bringing her own hand down to clasp at his arse cheek, pulling herself tightly up against him.

The pair of them began to move together, rolling their hips, speaking with their bodies in ways that neither one of them could ever speak in words. They parted their lips for air, Sherlock burying his face in her neck. Hot wisps of his breath brushed against her skin as he increased the speed of his thrusts. She was clutching tightly to him now, moaning his name repeatedly.

They came in unison, a feat they did not all too often achieve. She cried out against his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin. Sherlock still had his face buried in her neck. He cradled her body against his; tucking both their dressing gowns around them so that the cool air of the room didn't touch their skin that was damp with perspiration. Once he had done this Molly reached up, cupping his face in her hands before kissing him deeply. They sighed against each other's lips.

"I concur, this was much more intimate," she said softly.

He smiled, humming his agreement before kissing her again. She let out a happy, exhausted sigh and laid her head down onto his chest.

"Well! What a birthday!" she declared.

She could hear his rumbling laugh.

"Are you satisfied? Or do you want more?" he asked.

She gave his nipple a tweak through the fabric. "More?! I won't be able to walk tomorrow!"

He laughed again and brought his hand up to brush back several strands of her hair, her eyes closing.

"We should move back to the bed," he said to her.

"But the sheets are damp! From our shower earlier."

He grumbled, having forgotten about this, and she opened her eyes.

"If you hadn't been so eager we could have dried off first!" she told him.

"Hush!" He silenced her with a kiss. "We'll stay here then, for now at least."

She laughed, bringing her hands up to his hair, his curls all mussed. "Lazy git!"

"Molly! We've just made love three times; I think I have every right to be lazy."

She smiled. "I'm only teasing you."

"I could always have Mrs. Hudson come up here and have her change the sheets!" He was smirking cheekily.

"No! Don't you dare!" She gave his chest a little pounding with her fists. "'Not your housekeeper!'"

He began to laugh, rolling himself until he was on top of her, Molly lying beneath him. She undid the knot, slipping her hands beneath the fabric so that she could run her fingers up his chest. They kissed again, their bodies nestling together.

Eventually they did make it back to the bed, changing the sheets before doing so. Sherlock was more of a menace than a help though, repeatedly grabbing Molly for another session of snogging. How the man did love to kiss! Once the bed was at last made they slipped beneath the cool sheets and curled up together.

"Tired?" Sherlock murmured, his lips against her temple, his breath rustling her hair.

"Mmm ... exhausted and sated," she answered. "Thank you for making this such a wonderful birthday. I don't know what I did to deserve so much attention!"

He tilted her head back so that she was looking up at him. "We barely ever saw each other all last month; we only had sex five times! But really... it's for putting up with me. Staying with me. Agreeing to marry me. Loving me. You're an incredible woman, Molly. You deserve to be worshiped."

Her face blushed bright red. "Gracious Sherlock, you make me sound as if I am some sort of goddess!"

He humphed. "You are not a mythical creature invented by the Greeks. You are a human being, with a knack for falling for sociopaths."

She shook her head. "You're not a sociopath in spite of whatever you may have convinced yourself to think."

He knew it was useless to argue with her so he said nothing. Silence fell for a time, their bodies tucked against each other.

Her voice broke through the quiet. "You know, I think you're in a bit of trouble."

"Hmmm?"

She chuckled softly and moved herself on top of him, allowing her breasts to press up against his chest in a rather delightful way. He was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"How are you possibly going to top this, next year?" Her tone was a teasing one as she spoke this.

With a growl he pinned beneath him, and she let out a raucous laugh, the very one that he found so wonderful to hear.

"I'll think of something," he hissed, nipping at her shoulder blade.

"Mmm ... you do that!" She dragged her nails down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her fingers.

* * *

A week later Molly was sat upon the sofa with a novel, and Sherlock had his head in her lap. His laptop was upon his stomach and he was tapping away at it madly.

"How's the wedding planning coming along?" she enquired suddenly.

The typing came to a standstill; he turned his head to look up and saw that she was peering down at him from below her book.

"You've been shockingly silent about all of that, I'm rather surprised," she continued.

"Just working out some things first," he explained. "I'm writing up diagrams right now, of the order I want to go in."

"Ahhh, like your sock index?" She returned her gaze to her book and placed her hand in his hair, working her fingers through his curls.

He sniffed. "It's a perfect way to keep things organized!" he stated, his tone falling flat.

"Oh stop sulking." She gave one of his curls a tug.

He resumed his typing and Molly continued to read.

"Will I have a say in anything?" she asked suddenly.

He shot up, closed his laptop, and turned around to face her. "Of course you will! Why do you think that you wouldn't? This is  _our_ wedding."

She chuckled softly. "Just making sure! Sadly I don't have a wedding board on  _Pinterest_ , so you can't use that as a reference. Well I used to, but I deleted it shortly after Tom and I broke up." The moment those words left her mouth she regretted it.

Sherlock eyed her for a moment then placed his laptop on the coffee table before pulling her onto his lap. He took her book from her and tossed it alongside his computer, holding her in his arms..

"Did you really think he was your last chance?" His voice rumbled against her.

She wrapped her arms about Sherlock's neck, holding onto him tightly. "For awhile I did. Every relationship I've ever been in hasn't worked out. So I … I decided to give up, accept the fact that I would eventually become a crazy cat lady." She laid her head on his shoulder, tilting her chin up so that she could gaze at him fully. "But then you had to barge in on my face mask night, tell me you love me and shag me into my mattress! Damn you for ruining my future endeavors of owning thirty cats!"

He smirked. "I think you should be thanking me, not cursing me."

She reflected his smirk. "Perhaps so. Thank you for finally pulling your head out of your arse and accepting the fact that love is not a disadvantage."

"Mmm, that's better!" He leaned down and kissed her. "So! Wedding questions! I think I have one I can ask you." He leaned forward and grabbed up his laptop, situating it so that it sat upon the top of her thighs. "Which do you prefer," he asked, opening up a tab that he had yet to close. Two pictures of serviettes appeared on the screen. "Swan or Sydney Opera House?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe! I struggled for a bit with how the hell to end this chapter, but then this idea hit me and I must admit, I practically cackled with glee! ;) 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this ridiculously long chapter! I don’t think the next one will be quite as long, but I can’t guarantee anything.
> 
> I will try my hardest to update more often from now on! 
> 
> Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES! (6 Jan.) :)
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts! :D
> 
> Oh, and MizJoely and Megsta95, did you like what I wrote? ;) *wiggles eyebrows*


	25. Swan or Sydney Opera House?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I am incapable of writing short chapters! Ha! Oh well :-P
> 
> I had a bit of fun writing this one :D
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Sherlock does something a Bit Not Good ... oh dear! What a shocker! haha!

* * *

"Swan or Sydney Opera House?" Sherlock asked, beckoning to the two images on his laptop screen.

Molly didn't even take a second before giving a reply, "Swan! Definitely swan for the serviettes!"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Thought as much, you being an animal lover and all."

She smiled. "Are you going to make these yourself? You can make napkin origami?" She bit back a laugh when she saw that the tips of his ears turned pink.

"And what of it if I can?" he spat out.

She moved her fingers through his curls. "Oh, nothing! I just find it rather adorable! How did you learn?"

He mumbled something illegible as he opened up the word document he had been typing in earlier.

"Was that YouTube I heard you say?" she asked, moving her hand to the play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Yes."

She smiled. "You actually went on YouTube and watched videos of how to fold fancy napkins?"

"YES! It was for John and Mary!" he exclaimed loudly.

"Shhh …" She moved her other hand to cup his face, running her fingertips over his cheek. "No need to get so worked up, I was just asking that's all. What you did for them was very sweet. I'm sure that they both appreciated every bit of help that you gave them." She pressed a tender kiss to his jaw.

He turned his head slightly, bumping his nose against hers. "Thank you."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Where do you think we should have the wedding? I don't entirely fancy the idea of marrying in a church, and I'm sure you don't at all."

He answered without hesitation, " _Wakehurst Mansion_."

She hadn't expected him to give such a quick answer. Well, she hadn't exactly expected him to have an answer at all. She sat back up to look directly at him.

"Where?" she asked.

" _Wakehurst Mansion_ , it's in West Sussex."

He tapped away at his laptop and brought up the website. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the screen.

"Oh my God. That's … beautiful!" she said.

He smiled. "I thought you'd like it, mainly because it looks a bit like-

"Thornfield Hall," she finished for him.

"Yes, exactly."

She settled herself against him. "You sir, have an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what I would like."

He tightened his arm around her. "You approve then?"

"Yes, absolutely," she replied.

"Even without going there first and seeing it in person?"

"Sherlock, it's perfect, it's beautiful. My answer is yes."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before opening up his word document and typing in the words ' _Wakehurst Mansion_ ' where he had specified 'Venue.'

"This is really happening, isn't it? We're really getting married!"

Sherlock stopped typing and turned to look at her. "Yes,  _we_ are."

Molly couldn't stop the smile from coming to her face. "Do you have any idea how happy this is making me feel?"

He closed his laptop, placing it down beside them before clasping his hands together over her hip. He moved his body slightly, so that they were able to look at each other more fully.

"I think I have an idea." His smile reflected hers. "Molly, I must confess to you, I never thought or considered anything like this. I never wanted to be in a relationship, I always considered myself married to my work, but then you had to come into my life and change all of that." He gave her hip a slight pinch with his fingers. "I honed my mind to only focus on puzzles and mysteries, convincing myself that friendship and love would only slow me down, and that all of that was completely useless. I know I've spoken words similar to these to you before … but I just wanted to … thank you … for existing."

Instead of saying anything in reply to his sweet words, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. He tightened his hold on her and she twisted herself about so that she was now straddling him, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips.

"I love you so much, Sherlock," she breathed out.

He touched his forehead to hers, their eyes locked. "I love you too, Molly."

* * *

A murder case took Sherlock to the south-side of London. He was gone for three days. Normally he would hardly never text her, much too busy being in his Mind Palace and searching for clues to solve the murder. But not so this time. He was texting her constantly, more often than not questions about their wedding.

At first Molly found it to be slightly funny. But when he started to text her in the middle of the night it quickly became annoying. How the ridiculous man was able to both focus on completing the case, and also think about their wedding was something she was certain she would never be able to wrap her head around.

She had to admit though, when she got the text telling her that he was on his way home she felt her heart flutter. The bed had been feeling too empty without him there.

Taking note of where he was coming from she calculated how long it would be before he arrived at Baker Street. She showered, then lathered herself in the lotion that he once told her he loved smelling on her skin. Could it be that the man had a scent kink?

The minutes ticked by, her body practically aching in anticipation at the thought of his return. When a thought came to her mind, she giggled wickedly. Fifteen minutes later the sound of his footsteps on the stairs filled the flat. She nibbled on her bottom lip, chuckling softly to herself.

"Molly?" he called out.

How was it that just the man's voice alone could send heat pooling between the apex of her legs?

"In the bedroom!" she answered him.

He strode down the hallway, coming to a standstill when he reached the doorway.

"Welcome home, Sherlock."

She was stretched out along the bed, entirely naked, leaning on her elbow with her head resting on her hand. His breath hitched in his throat. Her smiled widened as he stepped into the room and began to quickly undress himself. Once he was entirely naked he got onto the bed and moved over to her. She tilted her head back, continuing to smile up at him.

"What a welcome this is!" he murmured, before dropping downwards to press his lips to hers.

She sighed into the kiss as it grew in passion, slipping her arm about his neck. He wrapped his arm around her waist, clutching at the small of her back as their tongues fought for dominance. The hard points of her nipples were pressing into his chest.

"I've missed you," she whispered against his lips.

"Missed you too," he replied, before kissing her deeply again, pressing his entire body against hers, his erection bumping up against her stomach.

He pulled away from her, breathing heavily. "One moment." He kissed her lightly then moved off of the bed and went to shut the bedroom door.

Molly sat up, watching him as he returned to the bed. But instead of climbing back up he stood at the foot of it. He tapped on the edge with his fingertip, then beckoned to her.

"Come here," he said.

She smiled again and moved towards him on her knees. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again.

"Lay down … on your back," he instructed.

She did as he asked, and he grabbed her about the hips pulling her closer to him, until her bum sat at the edge of the mattress, her legs hanging over. The tip of his cock brushed against her pelvic mound, she whimpered, desperate for him to be buried inside of her.

He spread her legs wide apart, lifting her thighs until they were pressed against his hips. It was then that he entered her, knowing that she was wet and ready for him. His movements started out slow, slipping into her only halfway before pulling himself out.

She cried out in frustration, knowing how much he enjoyed teasing her like this. She threw her head back, clutching at the sheets when he nudged her clit with the head of his cock.

"God Sherlock, stop, please! I want you inside of me! Please!" She hated him for making her beg, and yet she also loved it. It was a strange sort of game that the pair of them both enjoyed playing.

He thrust into her then bottoming out completely, his balls coming to rest against her.

"Yes! Oh!" Her knuckles grew white as she clutched more tightly at the bed sheets.

His pelvis pressed directly against her clit. She moaned and sighed happily as he thrust into her over and over. When he began to increase the speed of his thrusts, he tilted his hips ever so slightly so that the tip of his cock hit against that lovely little spot inside of her that made her moan like a wild animal. He dropped his head down and mouthed at her breast, lapping at her nipple with his tongue. Just as he grazed it with his teeth he came to a sudden standstill.

"Sherlock?" Molly sounded worried.

Without a word he reared back and slipped his cock out of her.

"Sherlock!"

She shot up, watching as he moved about the room, obviously looking for something.

"What the hell are you doing?" she said angrily.

"One moment, Molly," he answered dismissively.

With a loud huff she pulled herself up the bed, before throwing herself back down upon the mattress, her head hitting the pillow as she clamped her legs shut and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Unbelievable," she muttered beneath her breath.

Sherlock found what he had been looking for, a thick black leather-bound book. He flipped it open, grabbed up a pen and began to write something down. Within moments he was finished and returned to the bed, his still hard-cock bouncing slightly from his movements, it glistening in the faint light.

She was glaring at him at his he climbed onto the bed. He hesitated, looking off to the side for a moment.

"Not ... Good?" he questioned slowly, returning his gaze to her.

"Not Good at all. WAY more than a Bit Not Good! What the hell was that all about?"

He dropped himself down beside her, his cock beginning to soften. "I had an idea, for the wedding, I knew that if I didn't write it down straight away I'd forget it."

She blinked at him. "You never forget anything, unless you choose to delete it."

He looked away from her again."Yes well ahh- that is true. But I've come to find that when I'm with you,  _in you_ , my mind becomes blank, all I can think of and focus on is you, how you feel around me, how you make me feel, the noises you're making. Other thoughts tend to drift in from time to time, but once I orgasm, I've forgotten what they were. I knew that if I didn't write it down, I'd never remember."

She stared up at the ceiling, contemplating his words. "So what you're telling me is that you have mind-blowing orgasms?"

He let out a snort. "As completely inaccurate and impossible as that phrase actually is ... err yes."

She let out a giggle. "Well that's quite a compliment ..."

He looked at her, hopeful. Her gleeful expression quickly changed back to a serious one.

"If you ever do anything like that again I swear I won't shag you for an entire month, possibly two," she stated firmly.

He swallowed thickly. "I won't."

"To hell with if you forget whatever blasted idea you come up with. Pulling out of me like that ... please don't ever do that again."

He curled up against her, nuzzling her neck, brushing his nose against her ear. "I won't," he repeated, placing a kiss upon her throat. "You're wearing that lotion," he noted then sighed against her. "Did I …?"

"Ruin the mood?" she finished his sentence for him.

"Mmm."

"No."

"Oh!"

She splayed her hand out on his chest, pushing him until he was flat on his back. She straddled his thighs, taking his now flaccid cock between her fingers. With an impish grin she shifted herself down until she was straddling his knees, before leaning forward and taking his cock between her lips.

"Mmmm…" She moaned softly around the tip, and lapped at him with her tongue, before taking more of his length into her mouth.

He dropped his head back onto the pillow, his chest rising and falling, grunts escaping from between his lips. Within no time his cock returned to full hardness. She released him from her mouth, leering up at him with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"That is quite a delicious combination, your cock and my juices!" She gave the tip a gentle kiss before pulling upwards, holding herself steady directly over him.

He lifted his hands up off the mattress, placing them about her waist. She splayed her hands out onto his chest, tipping herself forward slightly before sinking herself down onto his cock.

She gasped as he became nestled inside of her, rocking her hips slightly. His fingers dug into her skin, a groan coming from deep within his chest, as she began to truly ride him.

"Molly, my Molly!" He was chanting her name.

She tilted herself further forward, not slowing her movements on his cock, so that their lips could meet. His hands were on her arse now, guiding her up and down him, lifting his hips off the mattress. She cried out, the joint movements of their bodies tipping her over the edge. She was trembling against him; he held her close, and continued to thrust up into her until he too came with a cry of her name upon his lips.

He continued to cradle her in his arms as they both slowly came down from the high that they had just created together. She was the first to move, sliding her hand up and over his chest.

"Mind blown?" she asked with snicker.

He let out a loud humph in reply, only causing her laugh to increase. With a low growl he rolled her onto her back, the pair of them moaning when they both realized that he was still inside of her. She lifted up her legs, locking them over his lower back, making certain that he couldn't pull out of her now. His hips involuntarily moved forward, making them both moan again.

"Damn you and your stamina!" she murmured against his lips as he kissed her, he was smirking looking a bit too pleased with himself.

She dug her fingers into his hair, giving the curls a little pull. He growled again. Tilting his body back slightly, he shifted his hips. He kept himself buried inside of her as he moved onto his knees before he dipped his head down and latched onto her breast, giving her left nipple a not-so-very tender bite with his teeth. She gasped, then let out a hiss as he repeated the same action with her other breast. Both nipples were now stiff, aching peaks. He flattened his tongue against her left breast, dragging it across in one direction, then the other, before moving to her other breast, bathing each nipple in the warmth of his tongue, soothing the tender flesh.

He was nibbling at the underside now, nuzzling her with his nose. Sherlock didn't know why exactly (and this somewhat bothered him), but he was completely fascinated by this particular area of her soft, rounded flesh. Judging by the noises Molly always made when he paid attention to her here, she too enjoyed it as much as him. He didn't pull away from her until he had left a red mark upon each.

Lifting up his head he brought his mouth back to hers, gasping when she gave a buck of her hips, moving his nearly-hard cock inside of her.

"I think your stamina matches mine," he growled. He nipped at her bottom lip, rocking his hips against hers, loving the sensation of growing fully-hard inside of her.

"Do you think – oh! – do you think we'll ever grow tired of this?" she gasped out.

"Hmm? Of shagging? No. Your body feels too wonderful; I could never grow tired of this, of us, together like this," he ended his sentence with a roll of his hips.

She hummed in agreement, arching her back slightly as he began to slowly thrust. He placed one hand on her hip, the other pressed into the mattress by her head. They alternated between kissing, moaning and sighing, as their bodies moved together once more. She held onto to his shoulders with both hands, but eventually removed one and slipped it down between their bodies to swirl her fingertips over her clit.

Sherlock swore loudly, loving it when she did this while she was lying beneath him, her knuckles grazing the patch of wiry hair directly above his cock. He kissed her hard, increasing his speed.

He felt her walls shuddering around him, clenching his cock; he gave three more thrusts before following her into the abyss. She unlocked her legs, allowing them to fall bonelessly to the bed. He slipped himself out and collapsed beside her.

Several minutes later, when their rapidly beating hearts had returned to a more normal tattoo, she rolled over onto her stomach and looked at him. His eyes were closed but she knew that he wasn't asleep; he was more likely in his Mind Palace, filing away each moment of their most recent lovemaking.

She reached out and gave the tip of his nose a tap with her finger. His eyes flew open, his gaze meeting hers.

"Are you going to share with me what your idea was?" She raised her eyebrows.

He smiled slightly, moving himself closer to her. "I came up with the colour scheme."

"Oh?" She draped her arm over his chest, brushing her nose against his shoulder."What is it?"

"Yellow."

"Yellow?" she parroted.

"Yellow."

"Why yellow?" she asked.

He moved his head so that it was more at a slant, giving him a better view of her face. "Because of the way you look in that colour."

She smiled. "You like me in yellow?

"Mmm."

"I hardly wear it."

"John's wedding," he noted.

"Oh … my dress. You liked my dress?"

Sherlock shifted so that he was lying on his side, before giving her temple a kiss. "I did. I even liked that ridiculously large yellow bow that you had in your hair."

She chuckled, her breath tickling across his skin. He stroked her back, his hand slipping further downward, tapping her bottom with his fingertips. He stopped suddenly, bringing his hand back up to brush her hair away from her face. He wasn't looking at her, but instead was staring off into the distance.

"You stabbed Tom, with a fork," he spoke this almost flatly.

"Saw that, did you?"

His eyes moved to look at hers. "I  _always_  see you."

She moved her head, looking away from him, brushing the sheet with her nose.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Her eyes flew back up to meet his. "Tom thought you were drunk. It made me mad; I knew that you were trying to figure something out, something important."

He kept his eyes locked on hers. "Something else happened at that moment, didn't it?"

She nodded, her gaze falling back down to the bed. "I realized that I could never marry him; that I wouldn't ever be completely happy with him." She slowly raised her eyes, her chocolate ones meeting Sherlock's ocean-green. "If I couldn't have you, I didn't want anyone."

He sighed, exhaling slowly before tucking himself close up against her. "There are times when I wish that you didn't love me as much as you do."

She leaned back in order to look up at him. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think I'll ever stop believing that I'm not good enough for you."

She let out a sigh of her own, resting her forehead against his chest. "Then I am going to spend the rest of my life trying my hardest to convince you that you are!"

He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her up so that he could press his mouth against hers in a tender kiss. "I am grateful for that. You are quite a stubborn woman."

She smiled against his lips, returning his kiss. "No more stubborn than you!"

* * *

Molly was busy at work; conducting an autopsy with an intern when her text tone pinged. She ignored it, annoyed with herself that she had forgotten to silence it. As the minutes continued to pass, it pinged several more times.

"Aren't you going to check that, Doctor Hooper?"

"No, it's alright Alex, it's probably nothing."

As Molly finished speaking her phone pinged again, her gloved hands stilled.

"Perhaps I will have a look at it, carry on Alex, you're doing very well." She stepped away from the body and snapped off her gloves, tossing them into the nearby bin before pulling her mobile out of her lab coat pocket. There were six texts from Sherlock.

 _Guest list. Have you thought about who you want to invite?_  – SH

 _Molly?_  – SH

 _Molly, this is important!_  – SH

 _Why aren't you answering me?_ – SH

 _I know you're at work, but your patients are dead, it's not as if they are going to go anywhere._  – SH

Her mouth twitched at the realization that he had in fact tried to crack a joke.

 _Please answer me, I'm getting worried!_ – SH

Her eyes widened when she read his last text, it was only sent two minutes ago, but in Sherlock-time that practically meant two hours. If anything he was probably on his way to Bart's to make sure she was all right. She quickly typed out a hasty reply.

 _Sherlock I'm fine!_  – Mx

 _I couldn't reply to you because I was elbows deep in a chest cavity teaching an intern_! - Mx

His reply came almost instantly.

 _I'm on my way._  – SH

She sighed, resting her head in her hand, knowing that it was futile to argue with him. She glanced at the time.

"Alex, why don't you go take your lunch hour? We can finish this up later," she said to the intern.

"All right, Doctor Hooper."

Molly covered the body they had been working on and awaited Sherlock's arrival. Not even five minutes later he marched into the morgue. He pulled her into his arms and was holding her close.

"Sherlock I told you! I'm perfectly all right!" Her voice was muffled by his coat.

"Don't scare me like that!" The words almost stuck in his throat.

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "Scare you? The great Sherlock Holmes, scared?"

"When it comes to you being safe, yes."

She brought her hand up and brushed it over his cheekbone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." She stood on her tiptoes and gave his lips a gentle kiss.

He deepened it, pulling her more tightly up against him; she let out a squeak against his mouth.

"Sherlock, you're practically crushing me!"

"Sorry." He loosened his hold slightly.

She brought up her other hand, moving her fingertips back and forth over his cheekbones. "It's ok, I'm here, there's nothing to worry about. I'm not going anywhere," she whispered softly to him.

His rested his forehead against hers and sighed deeply.

She brushed her nose against his. "I'm about to go eat lunch, join me? We can eat in my office," she said.

He silently nodded, and at last released her from his embrace. As they walked from the morgue she felt his hand on the small of her back. Once they had gotten food from the canteen they made their way back to her office.

"Done with the case then?" she asked him as she sat in her chair, nodding towards the food he had gotten.

"Yes. It was a five, ridiculously simple." He grabbed a nearby chair, pulling it up alongside hers.

They ate quietly for a few minutes, until Sherlock broke the silence.

"Soo … guest list, do you know who you want to invite to our wedding?" he asked.

She laid down the sandwich she had been eating. "Yes well ahh … I don't really have many people to invite."

He leaned back in his chair. "No family at all?"

She shook her head. "There are a few cousins, but none that I'm very close with. You know that."

He shrugged slightly. "Yes, but I thought perhaps there would be someone."

"Well, there  _is_  Meena; she'd kill me if I didn't invite her. Actually I want her and Mary to be my bridesmaids. I could invite Mike Stamford-but I doubt he'll come; he didn't go to John's wedding. In all honesty though, I think it's going to be mainly people from your side. "

Sherlock scowled slightly. "It would seem so."

She ignored his annoyed expression. "Do you have a list?"

"Mmm." He took his mobile from his pocket and handed it over to her.

She scrolled through the list. "SHERLOCK! You don't have Sherrinford on here!"

His scowl deepened. "Why should he be invited?"

"He's your brother you twat! He's family! You're inviting Mycroft, why not Sherrinford?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly. "Fine. Add him to the list."

She shook her head as she typed in Sherrinford's name. "You really are unbelievable sometimes," she muttered under her breath. "There." She handed him back his phone.

He took it, stared down at the list for a moment then pocketed his mobile.

She picked up her half-eaten sandwich. "Is John going to be your best man?"

"Of course."

She took a bite, chewed and swallowed it before saying, "Have you asked him yet?"

"No-ooo."

She rolled her eyes. "Why ever not?"

"I thought that perhaps he would just assume; that he would know without my needing to say anything."

She turned and gave her fiance a weary look. "You hadn't a clue that he was going to ask you!"

"That was different."

She blinked. "No it wasn't."

He humphed.

"Ask him soon," she said. "And don't do it like you did when you told him we were getting married."

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yes, mummy."

She let out a chuckle. "Mmm that reminds me, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Can your dad be the one who gives me away?" she asked.

Sherlock fiddled with the napkin he had been folding. "I don't think he would mind."

She put her sandwich back down. "What is it?"

He didn't look up at her. "Your father … do you think he would have approved of me?"

"No."

His eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Not at first," she continued. "He would have hated you, as most people do when they first become acquainted with you. But then he would come to realize how much I loved you, and how happy you made me, and he would see that you loved me too, he would have eventually come to love you, very much."

"Good-good to know."

She laid her head down on Sherlock's shoulder, covering his hand with her own, stopping his fidgeting with the napkin.

"I have another question," she said.

"What is it?" He turned his hand so that their palms pressed together.

She laced her fingers with his. "The other night, you went and wrote in a big, black leather book. What is that?"

"Oh, that. It's our wedding book," he replied.

"Wedding book?" She leaned her head back slightly so that she could look at him.

"Yes. I've been writing down everything about our wedding."

She laughed slightly."I thought you were doing that on your laptop, and what about up here?" She reached up and gave his head a tap with her fingertip.

"Hard drive."

"What?" she asked.

"My brain is a hard drive," he stated. "It's not permanent, there's no physical evidence. I wanted something more enduring. And what I have on my laptop is more so a diagram."

"Ohhhhh. Can I see the book, look at it?"

He nodded. "Someday."

"Someday? Why not now?"

"It isn't finished yet."

She narrowed her eyes at him."You are so annoyingly cryptic sometimes."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "I know!"

* * *

A week later Mary came to Baker Street to discuss the more womanly aspects of the wedding planning with Molly; John had come with her, carrying little Emily in his arms. She wasn't quite so little anymore though. She had been toddling about for some time now, giving both Mary and John barely a moment's rest when she wasn't napping.

For the passed few minutes Molly had been giving Sherlock distinct looks. He knew exactly what those looks meant. She wanted him to ask John to be his best man. Just as he opened his mouth to speak his text tone went off.

"It's Geoff. He needs help with a case." Sherlock's eyes widened with excitement as he read the rest of Lestrade's text, after pocketing his phone he went to grab his coat "John? Aren't you joining me?"

John looked at his wife and she gave him a nod, he stood up and went to grab his coat that he had only just taken off a few minutes early. Sherlock was exclaiming with unrestrained glee that the case was most certainly a nine. Mary and Molly both exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads at their silly men.

Once they were both gone Mary went upstairs to settle Emily for a nap in John's old room, when she came back down she looked about the place for the first time. "Wow, you've ahh, really gotten into the whole wedding planning thing!"

Molly grimaced slightly. "Oh, all that." She gestured to the multiple piles of Wedding magazines that were placed about the entire room. "They aren't mine, they're Sherlock's."

Mary blinked at her. "Oh dear. Has he driven you absolutely mad yet?"

"Mmmm, no. But I am definitely getting close. How on earth did you and John survive it?" she asked.

Mary snorted. "Well actually he really was a massive help. It was just rather, ahh, slightly disturbing how into it he was, how good at all of it he was! The man could have his own business!"

Molly laughed. "Yes, I could see why you'd say that. What he's come up with so far is actually quite beautiful!" She turned and looked at the wall behind her; the wall that was usually covered in case files and clues was now littered with wedding things. "He hasn't stopped taking cases yet though, as you very well know, I suppose that's because we're still months away from when the actual wedding will take place."

Mary nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's definitely it. Just you wait until you hit the one month marker, May is when you've set the date for right? Mm … yes, he'll go into full wedding mode, won't take a single case, not even a triple murder."

Molly eyes widened with fright. "Oh dear God. I might just murder him myself if he gets to be that bad."

Mary leaned forward. "If you ever need a break don't hesitate to pop in, we'll be here for you, John and I!"

"Thanks. I'll definitely keep that in mind!" The worry that had been etched upon Molly's face, faded away slightly as she spoke these words.

Mary sat up straighter. "So, the wedding dress! Any ideas as of what you want to wear?"

Molly nibbled on her bottom lip. "Somewhat … I don't … I don't really want to wear a traditional wedding dress. You know, pop into a bridal shop and pick out a dress that a million other women will be wearing as well. I want something unique, different."

Mary smiled. "I had a feeling that's what you were going to say. Were you thinking of something vintage perhaps?"

"That is a consideration; I just don't really know where to look."

Mary nodded. "All right, we'll get to that! What about style, design …?"

"Well, I love watching Period Dramas, the dresses they wore then were beautiful; the empire waist is so pretty. I'd love a dress like that!"

Mary rubbed her hands together with glee. "Give me five minutes! I think I know of something perfect! Exactly what you would want!"

Molly blinked in shock as Mary took her iPad from her bag and began to tap away on it. A few minutes later she let out a pleased, little chuckle and held out the iPad to Molly.

"What do you think of this?" she asked her.

Molly's mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "Mary, oh my God, this is it, this is what I want to wear … how?" She tore her gaze away from the beautiful dress to look at her friend, tears pooling in her eyes.

Mary gave another chuckle. "Sherlock's not the only one who can read people! I know what you like Molly. I've been doing a bit of a research whenever Emily is napping. I know you've been busy with work, and I'm pathetically idle when she isn't occupying my time so … I started looking about online. I only just came across this the other day, but I had a feeling that you would really like it. And the best part is, it's entirely handmade, and it's the only one; there won't be any other's made like it."

Gently setting down the iPad, Molly wrapped her arms about her. "Thank you! You're such a fantastic friend! Here I was worrying that I would never know what I wanted, or how to even find it! Thank you so much!"

Mary returned the hug. "I'm glad to be of help! I had a lot of fun, searching the internet … but oh my goodness, there are a lot of hideous dresses in existence! I don't know what goes through some of these designers minds!"

Molly laughed, wiping away the few tears that had fallen. "You have no idea how relieved this makes me feel. I really was very worried."

"Well now you don't have to be! One less thing to think about!"

Molly gave her another hug before she stood up from the sofa. "Would you like some tea? Meena should here in a little bit; I can't wait to show her the dress!" She padded towards the kitchen.

"Tea would be great!"

Just as the kettle began to boil the doorbell rang.

"You get the door Molly, I'll handle the tea!" Mary said as she entered the kitchen.

"Thanks Mary."

Molly made her way downstairs to answer the front door. Meena squealed with delight as soon as she saw her.

"You're getting married!" she exclaimed, pulling her friend into a tight embrace.

Molly laughed loudly. "Yes I am Meena! You've known this for a while now!"

"I know, I know, I just enjoy acting like a daft cow sometimes! This is exciting!"

The pair of them made their way upstairs. Mary had the tea set out on the coffee table when they walked in. After the hellos were exchanged the three women settled down onto the sofa.

"So … your wedding dress, have you two found anything yet?" Meena asked.

Molly nodded, unable to keep a smile from coming to her face. "Yes I have! Mary found the perfect dress! It's gorgeous! Here, have a look!" She grabbed up Mary's iPad and brought back up the photo before handing it over to Meena.

Meena's face held the same shocked expression that Molly's had shown. "Oh my bloody God! This is beautiful! Mary, kudos to you for fantastic taste!" She continued to gaze at the photo. "Thank goodness Sherlock didn't take over this end of the wedding! Could you imagine having him pick your dress?"

Molly laughed. "Clearly you don't know Sherlock as well as I do! He would have picked out a perfect dress, I'm sure of it. The man has impeccable taste."

Meena shrugged. "Perhaps so, he definitely knows how to dress himself! Damn those tight trousers of his!" She wiggled her eyebrows wickedly.

Mary let out a snort into her tea.

Molly gave her friend's shoulder a slight shove. "Hey, watch it you! That's my future husband you're talking about!"

"Why are we drinking tea? We should be drinking wine!" Meena scrunched up her nose as she took a sip.

Molly rolled her eyes. "It's not even in the middle of the afternoon, and we have important business to attend to! We need our heads to be clear!"

Mary nodded in agreement. "She's right you know, you don't want to end up wearing some gaudy, chartreuse bridesmaid dress now do you?"

Meena's eyes widened in horror at the thought. "Tea's fine. Ta."

"Yes, so, bridesmaid dresses!" Molly said. "Since the colour scheme of the wedding is yellow, I thought perhaps a nice, soft grey would be nice. The men could be in grey suits as well."

Mary thought for a moment. "Yellow and grey, I like the thought of those two colours together, very nice!"

"Anything but chartreuse please!" Meena spoke around the rim of her tea cup.

Molly stood up and began searching about the room. "I saw a couple of dresses in one of Sherlock's magazines that he bought. Where is it? I hope he didn't move it, the bloody git. AHA! Here it is." She grabbed the magazine and returned to the sofa, flipping through until she found the page she wanted. "They are conveniently at a shop in London, I already checked, what do you two think?" She held the magazine out towards her two friends.

"Oh Molly, I never knew  _you_  had such impeccable taste," Meena breathed out.

The shove Molly gave to Meena's shoulder was none all-too gentle this time.

"Kidding! Kidding!" she exclaimed. "But really though, these are very pretty! I'd say the first dress, Mary, what do you think?"

Mary nodded. "Definitely the first dress, I love the neckline."

Molly smiled. "Perfect! Wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses all in one day! I feel very accomplished!"

Meena and Mary shared a glance, both of them smiling widely.

"What, what is it?" Molly asked, looking from one to the other.

"There's something else that you can say you've accomplished, well … we've accomplished," Meena noted, with a tiny hint of smugness in her voice.

"There is?" Molly spoke this slowly, looking very confused.

"Yes."

Molly's eyes narrowed. "What have you accomplished?"

"The Hen Night!" Meena declared.

Molly's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. I forgot about that."

Meena all but cackled. "Well the two of us haven't." She beckoned between her and Mary. "We've been discussing it for some time now, and we finally decided what the three of us are going to do to celebrate it."

Molly looked slightly nervous. "You have?"

Mary clasped her hands together before excitedly announcing. "We're taking you to Paris!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with the Hen Night idea in Paris quite awhile ago ... that's going to be fun to write ;)
> 
> Oh yeah, before I completely forget! That whole 'Not Good' moment with Sherlock and stopping mid-shag to go write something down ... haha, I got that idea from a post I saw on tumblr ... it was a gif of Mike and Sully from Monster's Inc singing 'Put that thing back where it came from or so help me!' Anyway, someone had wrote text above the gif and it said "when a guy is giving you good dick and suddenly pulls out" ... yeah, my mind works in crazy ways :-P I found it to be hilarious and thought that it would be a very Sherlock-like thing to do ... yes? Do you agree? Disagree? 
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think!


	26. We're taking You to Paris!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of pearl! An update!
> 
> I'm so terribly sorry for leaving you all waiting for such a long period of time, but real life got in the way.
> 
> I started a new, full-time job so my free time has dissippated quite a lot.
> 
> Anyway, down to business. I've been working on this chapter for some time now, and it turns out that I had to split it into three chapters.
> 
> I made that decision when the word count hit 12,000! Welp.
> 
> But, that means that I shall be posting three new chapters within a short space of time :)
> 
> All right, I've done enough rambling! On to the long-awaited chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (also CONGRATS TO BENEDICT AND SOPHIE!!! eeeee! So happy for them!)

* * *

"We're taking you to Paris!" Mary announced excitedly as she clasped her hands together.

Molly's eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "Really?"

Meena nodded her head, her smile growing bigger. "Yes! Isn't that a fantastic idea? It's been an age since we've been there! I hardly remember any of that trip …"

Molly gave her a condescending look. "That's because you were either drunk or had your entire body wrapped around some scrawny Frenchmen!"

Mary wrinkled her nose, giving Meena a sideways glance.

Meena threw up her hands defensively. "I was young! We were in uni! I was just having a bit of fun! I'm a changed woman now! You won't see me doing that this time! Well … I can't guarantee the drunken bit."

Molly laughed.

"So, is it a good idea?" Mary asked her.

Molly nodded. "Yes! It's a wonderful idea! It really has been years since I was there, I'll be happy to go back."

Mary smiled. "Good. We thought that we'd perhaps make a long weekend out of it, you know, see the sights and all? Just us girls! No men, no baby!" She got a wistful look in her eyes.

"Sounds perfect to me!"

Meena clapped her hands together. "Brilliant! Now all we have to do is work around our schedules. I'm thinking that we don't need to wait until the weekend before your wedding, we can do it whenever, the sooner the better! I'm getting more excited just thinking about it!" She wiggled her hips on the sofa cushion in a mock form of dance while she took out her phone.

Molly's text tone pinged and she picked it up, noticing that it was from Sherlock. She rolled her eyes though when she saw that it was just another wedding question, this time about the flowers for her bouquet. Ignoring his text she laid her phone back down onto the table.

"So what about where we are going to stay?" Molly asked. "And how are we going to get there, and what we'll do while we are there?"

Meena waved her hand dismissively. "Leave all of that to the two of us! Mary and I are going to plan it all. You can give us a list of things you'd like to do, places you'd want to go, if you'd like. This is  _your_  weekend!"

Molly let out a snort. "I highly doubt any of you would be interested in going to the places that I would want …"

Meena was now the one to give a condescending look. "How about this, the three of us all pick at least one thing that we each want to do while we are there. Molly, you can pick two since you're the Bride-to-Be! Does that sound fair?"

Mary thought for a moment. "That sounds like a plan! Molly?"

She gave a shrug. "Sure, let's do that. I just have one rule though, and I mean it Meena! We are NOT going to a strip club of any kind! Not only would Sherlock have your head, so would I! I positively loathe those places and you know it!"

Meena changed the look of condescension to a knowing smirk. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, I know, I know! The thought honestly hadn't crossed my mind! I've lost interest in those places."

Mary was giving her a wondering look as Molly let out a snort.

"I'm quite shocked! Could it be that you are … maturing?!" Molly asked.

Meena let out a snort of her own. "Mary, I'm so sorry you're being subjected to this conversation. I've turned over a new leaf and Molly is finding it hard to believe, let's just leave it at that. What's in the past is in the past."

Mary gave her an understanding nod. "I agree with that entirely."

Molly bit down on her bottom lip, knowing all too well how much Mary wanted to keep what was in the past,  _in_ the past.

"So no luck in finding a good bloke then, Meena?" Molly inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that what brought on the new leaf, as you so eloquently put it?"

Meena let out a slow sigh. "Yes. I've even stopped going to the pub, the only guys I've been meeting there have turned out to be complete arseholes or drunks. I'm about ready to accept my fate; crazy cat lady!"

Molly gave her a weary look. "But you hate cats."

"Mmmm … crazy dog lady?"

Mary let out a chuckle. "Perhaps I can talk with John; see if he knows anyone we could set you up with?"

Meena eyed her for a moment. "I don't know, I haven't had much luck with blind dates. A few people at Bart's have set me up, all of them disasters!" She let out a sigh then turned to Molly. "I suppose there won't be any single men at your wedding?"

Molly started to shake her head then stopped. "Wellllll, Sherrinford will be there, as far as I know."

"Sherrinford? Who he?"

Molly smiled. "Sherlock's brother, his twin!"

Meena's eyes widened. "Bloody hell! I forgot about the brother! And he's single?"

Molly nodded. "Yeah, but there's a bit of a snag …"

"Snag? What do you mean?"

"Well, ahh … he's a mathematician … in, erm, China," Molly explained.

Meena slumped against the sofa. "Well fuck … that's quite a distance away." She quirked an eyebrow. "Is he as good-looking as Sherlock?"

Molly thought for a moment. "Mmmm, I suppose so, he's quite a bit different looking from Sherlock, I don't think they're identical. I might be able to find a photo of him." She leaned forward and grabbed the iPad off the coffee table. "I'm sure the university he works for would have a picture. Let's just hope it's not all in Chinese." After a few moments of searching she managed to find one. "Here." She handed Meena the iPad. "I'll be honest though, he might have a girlfriend, I have no idea."

Meena's eyebrows rose. "Oh … he is rather cute. Is he as much of a pain in the arse as Sherlock is?"

Molly giggled. "No, not that I could tell. He was rather sweet whenever I was with him."

Meena set down the iPad. "Well then, you better make sure to introduce me to him at the wedding!"

A short while later John and Sherlock returned, Sherlock looking rather disgruntled.

"The Yard are getting more inefficient as the days go by!" He griped as he tugged off his scarf before removing his coat. "They can't even manage to solve a simple two!"

Meena had left just before they came back, and Mary was gathering up Emily and her things. John looked as if he was quite ready to go home, repeatedly casting annoyed glances in Sherlock's direction. Emily was snuggled against Mary's chest when she came downstairs. The expression on John's face softened, all signs of annoyance ebbing away. He placed a tender kiss upon her downy head before giving his wife a much stronger kiss.

"Take your hubby home and give him some much-needed attention," Molly whispered to Mary as she hugged her friend goodbye. "I think Sherlock has put him a bit on edge today."

Mary nodded before both she and John made their way downstairs. Once the door was shut behind them Molly walked over to where Sherlock had thrown himself into his chair. He was sulking.

"Did  _you_  at least have a successful afternoon?" he asked her, his tone tinged with dissatisfaction.

"Yes actually … I did. I found my wedding dress," she replied.

His eyes perked up.

"I am not going to let you know what it looks like," she stated firmly. "We may not be traditionalists Sherlock, but I would like it for you to not see my dress until the day of."

He humphed. "Fine."

She stepped closer to him and allowed him to pull her down onto his lap, tucking her close up against him.

"Was the case really that easy?" she asked.

He breathed out loudly against her neck. "Yes. The daughter faked a robbery because her mother refused to leave her her diamonds in her will. The entire Yard is pathetically inefficient."

He began to leave a trail of open-mouth kisses up and down the length of Molly's neck, nuzzling the shell of her ear with his nose.

"Sherlock ..." she murmured, somewhat breathlessly, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Mmm?"

He slipped his hand beneath her jumper, dragging the tip of his finger along the hem of her trousers.

"Mary and Meena want to take me to Paris for a long weekend," she spoke this all in a rush.

Both Sherlock's mouth and hand grew still. Molly's eyes popped open as he slipped his hand out from beneath her jumper and leaned back into his chair. She tilted her body slightly so that she could look at him more directly. He wasn't pouting, shockingly enough, if anything he looked rather confused.

"Paris? What on earth for?" he asked.

She counted to ten slowly inside of her head before saying, "For my Hen Night."

He blinked at her. "Hen Night? You're not a chicken!"

She held back a smile. "Sherlock ... remember the Stag Night you did with John?"

She failed at holding in the slight giggle, when the tips of his ears turned pink.

He cleared his throat. "I deleted most of that night."

She had no choice but to smile now. "Mmhmm, sure you did."

His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything she continued.

"The female version of a Stag Night is called a Hen Night, and Mary and Meena have decided to take me to Paris to celebrate it."

He kept his eyes narrowed. "I think they missed the one key word:  _night_. You said a long weekend!"

She slowly let out a breath. "We're not going to go all the way to Paris just for one night, Sherlock! That's ridiculous! They want to make a weekend of it, just us girls."

The pout at last made its appearance. "But four days? Why four days? Why must you be gone so long?"

Molly counted to ten once more. "It's not really all that long ... we've been apart for a lot longer than that. You'll be fine. I'm sure you'll find a case or two to keep you busy. And maybe John has a Stag Night he's planning for you?"

Sherlock grimaced slightly. "Wonderful," he muttered. "Damn these stupid traditions."

She chuckled softly and leaned forward, placing kisses from his chin to up along his jawline. "Just try to not end up in jail this time!"

He huffed loudly, in spite of the fact that his hands returned to wandering, both now slipping beneath her jumper. "I blame that entirely on you. I trusted you to calculate correctly!"

She leaned back. "Sherlock, you know that I calculated everything perfectly, none of what happened that night was my fault whatsoever. I just never considered that John would sneak shots into your beer. If you  _both_  had followed what I had written up you would have been perfectly fine. But it was John's Stag Night; he had every right to have a little bit of fun ... behind your back."

Sherlock huffed again. "I completely underestimated him. Not something I am proud to admit."

She laughed, giving his chin a slight nip with her teeth. His fingers deftly unhooked her bra; he dropped his hands down to the edge of her jumper and gave it a slight tug upwards. She leaned back and allowed him to take off both her bra and jumper in one swift move. He quickly latched his mouth onto her breast, sucking her nipple in-between his lips. She let out a soft whimper as he continued to work his mouth upon her, clutching at the back of his head and arching her back slightly.

He cupped her other breast in his hand, massaging the soft flesh before switching, suckling upon her other nipple and using his fingers upon her now wet breast. Quiet gasps were escaping her lips and she dropped her hand down to his trousers, undoing the button and zip. She slid in her hand and wrapped her fingers around his hardened cock. He groaned around her skin, the vibrations causing her to let out a moan of her own. She removed his cock from the fabric barrier and began to stroke him.

He lifted up his head and gave her a gentle push back. "Stand up," he told her, his voice husky. "Take off your trousers." His eyes were fully dilated, and she was certain that her own mirrored his.

She stood up and quickly undid her trousers, kicking them off to the side before tugging down her knickers. He grabbed her about the hips and pulled her back down onto his lap, the pair of them each letting out a moan when his cock managed to brush up against her slit.

Molly placed either knee on the outside of his hips, positioning herself directly over him. Sherlock had his cock grasped in his hand, pumping it slightly, his other hand still on her hip. He dragged the head up the length of her now-parted folds that were soaked with her juices. She let out a soft cry when the tip reached her clit. He re-positioned himself directly at her entrance and allowed her to sink down upon him. She nestled herself against his body, rocking slightly.

"You're still fully clothed," she noted, placing her hands onto his shoulders. "Not. Fair."

He smirked at her. "Not important-mmmmf!-at the moment!" He hissed when she tilted back, taking him just the slightest bit deeper. He took her breast into his mouth, alternating between sucking and biting at her skin, while she moved his length in and out of her.

The room filled with the chorus of their moans and happy sighs as she continued to rock her body against his. He splayed his hand across her back, his fingertips digging into her skin, holding her close against him. The other hand was resting on her hip; he moved it forward slightly so that he could brush his thumb over her clit, first in one direction, then the other, before holding it pressed against the tender nub.

Molly cried out, collapsing against him. He grabbed her about the waist so that he could lift his hips off the chair. It only took two more thrusts for him to join her in orgasm. He cradled her body against his, her head tucked beneath his chin, as they both struggled to regain their breath.

"You're shivering," he murmured to her, a few minutes later. "Are you cold?"

"A little bit," she answered.

A fire had not been lit that day and the air in the flat was chilly, especially to her skin that was now covered in a faint sheen of sweat.

"Let's go to bed." He sat up, still holding her close to him.

"But it's so early!" she protested.

He let out a sniff. "And when has that ever stopped us?"

With one swift move he stood up and carried her towards the bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his waist; his now-softened cock pressed beneath the curves of the bottom of her arse cheeks. She nuzzled at his neck, rather enjoying the sensation of his dress shirt rubbing up against her nipples.

After kicking the door shut he settled her down upon the bed and she let her legs fall to the mattress. He stepped away from her and quickly removed his clothes. She slipped beneath the sheet and duvet, and as soon as he joined her she curled into his warmth. He cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her deeply.

"Molly …" he mumbled between kisses, "...you never answered my text."

She sighed against his lips, cupping his face in her hands to deepen the kiss again. "Ranunculus," she answered breathlessly when she pulled away from him. "Yellow and white ones."

He kissed her once more. "And the bridesmaids?"

"… white."

They both fell silent, continuing to kiss as their hands wandered and explored. They parted after a few minutes, both of them breathing heavily, she rested her forehead against his chin.

"Did you ask John?" she queried.

Sherlock's chest rose and fell before he answered. "Ye-es."

She lifted her head and met his gaze. "In an adrenaline-fueled moment?"

"Wellllll … we weren't chasing after someone this time!"

She rolled her eyes and moved onto her back. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised! Did he say yes?"

Sherlock sniffed. "Of course." He moved until he was hovering over her. "Are you warmer now?"

She placed her hands onto his arms. "Yes, much warmer."

"Good." He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly.

"Did you tell him that he didn't have to give a speech?" she asked between kisses.

Sherlock brushed his nose against hers before answering. "Yes. He seemed rather surprised."

"Mmm … and he has every reason to be! It  _is_  traditional for the Best Man to give a speech."

He rolled his eyes. "Stupid tradition. I'd prefer to be shot than to be put through that again."

Molly's hands tightened on his arms. "Don't say that."

He grimaced slightly. "Sorry."

She bumped her nose against his, much like a cat does. "I'm rather surprised you're not making him do a speech, you do love to torture the poor man."

He exhaled noisily. "I'm not having him give a speech because I don't want to be forced to sit and listen as he drones on."

"What you're really saying is that you don't want him to try and outdo  _your_  Best Man speech!"

A low growl escaped Sherlock's throat, causing Molly to giggle. He dropped his head down and nipped at her neck, directly over her pulse point. When he shifted his hips slightly, allowing himself to slide his length directly into her, she let out a gasp, soon followed by a low moan. He pressed her knees down to the bed, spreading her wide for him.

"Your insolence deserves to be punished," he told her, his voice taking on a husky tone. He leaned back slightly in order to watch his cock slide in and out of her glistening pink centre. "God what a sight that is!" he groaned.

Molly let out several mewls. "Yes, punish me!" she whimpered.

He slipped himself out of her entirely, taking his cock in his hand in order to tap her clit with the head, causing her to arch her back and mewl again. He nudged the head back into her entrance and gave a hard thrust. She cried out as he grabbed both of her legs and hooked them over his shoulder, now making her a nice, tight fit for him as he kneeled directly behind her. He placed his hands on the tops of her thighs in order to allow himself to thrust into her repeatedly and deeply. Sherlock watched in fascination as her breasts shook each time that he entered her.

She gave him a cheeky smirk and brought her hands up to her breasts, playing with her nipples, pinching and rolling them into hard buds. He swore loudly and began to thrust into her harder. Only a few thrusts later he came. He breathed heavily against her calf, rolling his hips, pumping his half-hard cock into her slowly. He parted her legs just enough so that he could swirl his fingertip over her clit. She came with a soft cry, lifting her bum off the bed to press against him. He slowly lowered her legs, slipping out of her as he did so and lied down beside her. He cradled her body around his, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mmmm … punish me whenever you like!" she murmured to him, and he chuckled.

* * *

The next day Molly was in the morgue, humming to herself. She was about to pull on a pair of gloves when she heard her text tone chime. Not wanting to ignore it, remembering all too well what happened the last time when she didn't answer Sherlock's text right away, she stopped putting on the gloves and took out her phone. The text wasn't from Sherlock though, it was from Meena.

 _Want to have lunch together in the canteen?_  - Mn

 _Sure! I was about to start on a body, but it can wait_. - Mx

 _It's not like it's going to go anywhere!_  - Mn

Molly rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what Sherlock would be saying if he was there right now. She wheeled the body back to its drawer and sealed it up. After washing her hands she removed her lab coat and made her way towards the canteen.

Meena waved to her as they walked towards each other down the hall. "I thought perhaps we could decide on a weekend for our Paris trip! I was just speaking with Mary and she said that any weekend would work for her, just that she needs to be able to give Mrs. Hudson a decent heads-up beforehand."

They walked into the canteen began to look over the food choices for the day.

"Well, how about not this weekend, but the next?" Molly suggested. "I'll have a chat with Mike, I'm sure there won't be a problem. I do still have some sick days set aside that I can use if needed."

Meena took out her phone and pulled up her calendar. "I think that should be fine? I'll have to double-check with my supervisor, but I don't think there'll be any issues! We'll just have to text each other when we get the official OK's!"

They sat down at a table with their food.

"Have you thought about what you want to do while we're there?" Meena asked, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork.

"Yeah, I have," Molly replied. "I definitely want to go to  _Shakespeare & Co._, you know me, can't pass up a good bookstore!"

Meena smirked. "Of course! I'm not the least bit shocked!"

"What about you? What do you want to do while we're there?" Molly asked her while she waited for her soup to cool a bit.

Meena stabbed at another piece of lettuce before answering. "Shop of course! And go to the Eiffel Tower, that's an absolute must, even if it does make me a tourist, I don't care!" A cheeky smile came upon her face. "You know what you should shop for while we are there?" She pointed at her with her fork. "Lingerie! For your wedding night! And don't you dare start on about how Sherlock doesn't care for all that. He may act like a machine, but deep down he is still very much so a man! Besides, that negligee you had bought was hit, so this time I think you should go for something a bit sexier."

Molly blushed. "I suppose so, if you think it's so important!"

"I do. And I'm certain that Mary would agree with me! I'll do some research and see what lingerie shops I can find, there's bound to be some good ones!"

After they finished eating they parted ways, with a promise to get in contact with each other when they found out if they would be able to go to Paris on the weekend they had decided upon. Molly returned to the morgue, mentally preparing herself for the autopsy she was about to perform. She found herself giggling when a sudden thought came to her. She wondered if it was at all possible to find sexy lingerie that featured bees. Now that would surely capture Sherlock's attention!

The next day Molly was at home when she received Meena's text telling her that she got the weekend off, she replied letting her know that her time off request had gotten approved as well. Molly toyed with her phone for a moment, remembering the fact that she hadn't told Sherlock that they'd settled on date for their girl's weekend.

Sherlock was currently busy with an experiment in the kitchen, and she wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know what it was that he was exactly doing. There was a blow-torch beside him and he was donning a pair of safety glasses. Earlier that week she'd brought him a few fingers and an eyeball from the morgue, perhaps he was going to be doing something with them? He often asked her to join him, but sometimes he preferred working by himself. She knew it was cathartic to him, thus she would let him be. She also knew that he was in a bit of a sulk, still not entirely happy with the fact that she would be going away, and she knew that if she told him that she was going next weekend that his sulk would only deepen further.

Taking note that he appeared to be distracted, she decided to take this occasion and start on her packing. She walked passed the kitchen and couldn't help but scrunch up her nose in disgust. He was blow-torching the eyeball, and the scent was not entirely pleasant. Shaking her head she continued into the bedroom and got out her suitcase.

She stood in front of the wardrobe, contemplating what she should bring with her. Toby walked into the room, taking advantage of being allowed in there. He rubbed up against her legs, purring happily, before he jumped up onto the bed and curled himself into a ball directly on top of Sherlock's pillow.

Meena had given her strict instructions that she had to bring at least one dress, and that she was in no way allowed to bring her beloved cherry jumper. Molly knew that she wasn't the smartest dressed woman, but she didn't entirely mind, she liked her clothes. She decided on packing her best trousers and blouses, and one of her skirts; the ones she usually saved for meetings, as well as a dress she had bought on a shopping trip with Meena that she had as of yet to wear. She grabbed up the clothes and laid them upon the bed to fold before putting them into her suitcase. She started to hum softly when suddenly the sound of Sherlock's voice caused her to jump.

"You don't have to go. You could just stay."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I always tend to stop my chapters like this don't I?! Was it too short? Sorry, if so, I struggled with where to split up these chapters! I'm going to try and post my next chapter tomorrow, seeing as I have the day off. We shall see! *fingers crossed*
> 
> Please tell me what you think! I love all of you lovely readers!


	27. You Don't Have to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Sherlock is going to do to try and convinve her to stay? *wiggles eyebrows*

* * *

"You don't have to go. You could just stay," Sherlock said, his tone was soft, and tinged with a hint of pleading.

Molly jumped during mid-fold of her shirt and turned about to fully face him. "Sherlock! I thought you were doing an experiment."

"I am. I have to wait a few minutes for the results." He stepped closer to her. "You don't have to go," he repeated.

She tilted her head to the side. "We've been over this, it's just four days." She laid down the shirt and walked over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's only a short amount of time; you've been gone much longer while working on a case!"

"Yes, I know. But this is different;  _you_  are going away, not me."

She removed her hands from his shoulders and placed them on her hips. "Oh so it's all right if you go, but not me? Is that it?!"

He knew that what he said was Not Good, his expression showed that clearly. He quickly grabbed her about the waist to make certain that she couldn't move away from him, covering her hands with his own. "That's not what I meant at all!" he declared.

She smirked slightly and he relaxed, realizing that she had only been teasing him. He dipped his head down, suckling on her pulse point as he slipped his hands back to cup her bum.

"Will you at least let me try and convince you to stay?" he murmured against her skin.

"Mmmm … if you like, but I can't guarantee that you'll get the results you desire!" she said.

He let out a low growl and kissed her again. She giggled against his lips, before whimpering when he moved his hand inside of her trousers, slipping a finger between her wet folds. When he reached her clit she let out a small cry.

They began to tug on each other's clothing, both quickly becoming naked. Toby ran from the room as the suitcase was pushed to the floor, followed by Molly's clothes. Normally she would be upset by this, but at the moment she couldn't care less. She moved to the centre of the bed, Sherlock covering her body, his fully-hard length pressed against her outer thigh.

"Move onto your stomach," he told her.

She gave him an inquisitive look as he leaned away from her so that she could roll over more easily. She did as he asked, gazing at him over her shoulder. He kneeled over her and grabbed her hips, tugging them upwards. She raised her bum off the bed, leaving the rest of her body on the mattress. He placed a few kisses along her back.

"Stay just like that," he instructed.

He gave her folds a few swipes with the pad of his thumb, just grazing her clit. A loud moan escaped her when he entered her in one swift thrust. He let out a groan as he made certain to fill her to the hilt, before quickly settling himself into a steady rhythm.

"Fuck!" she gasped out as his balls pressed against her clit repeatedly, making a delightful smacking sound. She grabbed tightly onto the sheets, continuing to moan into the pillow. "Oh God, Sherlock! You feel so good!"

He continued to thrust into her as deeply as he could go, reveling in her how wet and tight she felt around his cock. When her moans grew in pitch he knew she was close; he could feel her walls tightening around his length. He increased the speed of his thrusts, entering her hard and deep; just the way she liked it. She let out a wail into the pillow, her orgasm soaring over her. With one last slap of his balls against her clit, he pressed his hips into her arse and came with a shout. His body grew taut for several moments before he slipped himself out of her and collapsed down onto the bed. He turned towards her, breathing loudly through his nose.

"Still going to Paris?" he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

She gave his chest a smack with her hand. "Arse!" she exclaimed loudly, lifting her flushed face from the pillow.

He chuckled and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. "Yes … you do have a lovely one!" He smoothed his hand over her bottom, before giving it a slight slap.

She grumbled against his lips and he kissed her again. "I'm still going," she told him firmly.

He humphed but didn't move away from her. "Damn. It was worth a try. I was so positive I could persuade you."

She shook her head. "I've told you once before, you can't use sex to convince me to do things Sherlock!"

It was his turn to grumble. She pushed herself up, moving her hair away from her face.

"I need a shower before going to work, care to join me? Or do you need to get back to your experiment?" She began to slide off the bed, an impish twinkle in her eyes.

He sat up rapidly and began to follow her. "The experiment can wait. I think I need to try and persuade you again!"

The last audible sound that was heard was a slight shriek from Molly before the noise of the water drowned out everything else, well mostly.

* * *

For the rest of the week Sherlock was busy with a case, popping in and out of the flat ever since that night when he had  _asked_  her not to go. The case hadn't taken him to the lab, much to his annoyance. He made certain though to tell her how much this disappointed him.

Molly had just arrived home from Bart's and within only a space of a few minutes they had missed seeing each other; he had stopped by the flat to pick up a few things that he needed and had just left when her cab had started to come down the street.

They communicated via text for a little while before she went to take a shower. Once she was dressed in her comfiest pyjamas (one of Sherlock's rattiest t-shirts, and a pair of her own bottoms) she settled herself down upon the sofa with a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea that Mrs. Hudson had been so kind as to bring for her. Toby curled himself into a ball, purring happily against her leg. She was about to open a scientific journal she had brought home from Bart's when her email tone pinged. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and opened her email. It was from an address she did not recognize, but when she saw the subject title she realized that it was in fact from someone she knew, not junk mail as she originally thought. Molly tapped the email and it opened. The message read:

_Hello Molly, this is Sherrinford. I hope you don't mind that I got your email address from Mycroft; sometimes having a brother in the British Government is rather convenient, although I am certain there are more conventional ways that I could have gotten it. Anyway, I'm rambling and straying from the point of this message._

_It would seem that my arse of a brother, the man who always carried on about how love was a disadvantage, has miraculously convinced you to marry him. Is this true? If so, congratulations are in order! Will there be a wedding?_

_With the warmest of Regards,_

_Sherrinford_

She smiled then chuckled as she read the email. She could only assume that Mycroft must have told him, doubting that Sherlock would have done so. She quickly typed back a reply, trying to calculate in her head what time it currently was in Shanghai, but failing miserably at doing so.

_Hello Sherrinford, it's lovely to hear from you! I don't mind at all that you asked Mycroft for my email. You could have asked for it when you were here, I would have gladly given it to you._

_And yes, I am marrying Sherlock, and yes there will be a wedding. Invitations will hopefully be sent out soon. That's one thing we haven't actually discussed as of yet. Shall I send you one? You are of course invited and I hope you can come!_

_How is everything in China? Things are well here, if you can believe it Sherlock is actually doing the majority of the planning for our wedding. And he is doing a wonderful job. Does this surprise you?_

_Looking forward to hearing from you,_

_Molly_

Not expecting a reply straight away she put her phone back down and took up her tea and the science journal. Toby rolled over onto his back, twisting his body in a way that only cats can. A few minutes later her email tone pinged again. Once more the email was from Sherrinford.

_Molly, I didn't ask you directly for your address because I felt that it would be a pretentious thing to do. I also am highly aware of how easily jealous Sherlock can get. I didn't want to get myself more on his bad side then I already am._

_Of course I'll come to the wedding, wouldn't miss it for the world! Please do send an invitation, but also, if you would be so kind as to share the date with me as soon as you can to that I can make my travel plans. It's easier to do that as far ahead as I can manage._

_Sherlock the wedding planner, that's an interesting thing. He should add that to his website: "Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and Wedding Planner." I'm honestly not all that surprised though, he does enjoy being in control of things. Just make sure that he allows you an input, don't let him take over the entire planning! This is your wedding too!_

_Everything is well here in China. I've been busy with both teaching and my research. An article about my work was recently published in one of the papers here. I'd send you a copy, but I have a feeling you wouldn't find it all that interesting. Not many people are all too thrilled by mathematics._

_With the warmest of Regards,_

_Sherrinford_

She found herself smiling again as she read the email. Curious to know the time where he was she opened her clock app and discovered that it was nearly one in the morning there. Wondering if perhaps he was an insomniac she opened back up her email and wrote back a reply.

_Sherrinford, don't worry! Sherlock is being wonderful with the wedding planning, he is constantly asking me for my opinion ... and when I say constantly, I mean CONSTANTLY! I'm sure you can imagine that!_

_Congrats on the article, that's wonderful! I'd love to read the article, I'm not a huge fan of maths, but I would love to learn more about the work that you do._

_The wedding date is set for the 9th of May. I'm so glad that you will be coming. I am looking forward to seeing you again. And Sherlock will be as well; deep down I know that he loves you._

_Molly_

Her email went silent then, and she thought that perhaps he had gone to bed. She decided to text Sherlock, to tell him that his brother would be coming to the wedding. She wanted them to get along. Having no family herself, she knew how important it was to appreciate and love those that you did have, and she wanted to be able to see Sherrinford more; she enjoyed his company. Sherlock replied to her text a few minutes later.

 _Wonderful. Mycroft and Sherrinford in the same room. Plus Mummy and Daddy. One big happy family._ – SH

Molly rolled her eyes and fired back a reply.

 _Stop being such a sarcastic arse. You love them all, don't deny it._  – Mx

 _This is one of those moments where those ridiculous emoti's are used, isn't it?_  – SH

 _Yes. And they are called emoji's! :-P_  – Mx

 _Sherrinford is looking forward to the wedding. Do you think he'd be good for Meena?_ – Mx

 _Molly, do you really think that matchmaking is your forte? You always managed to make terrible choices for yourself, why do you think you'd be able to do better for someone else_? – SH

 _Well, you are in a pleasant mood. Case not going well?_  – Mx

 _I'm only speaking the truth. And no, it is not going well at all. I may be back late._  – SH

She bit down on her bottom lip, knowing that Sherlock's snark only really came out around her when he was in a foul mood which was usually caused by a case that was giving him some trouble.

 _I'll leave you to it then. We can talk later. Love you_. – Mx

 _I'm sorry if I offended you. I Love you too_. – SH

She tossed her phone to the side, letting out a slightly annoyed huff. She knew that she shouldn't allow his comment to bother her, but it did. What he had said was true, she had been awful at choosing men for herself, and she knew that he would say of himself that he was not a better choice. She of course didn't believe this, he was by far the best choice out of any man she had ever met. Letting out a deep sigh she decided to let go of what Sherlock had said and instead focused her thoughts on the email conversation she had just had with Sherrinford.

A short time later she made herself some dinner, and watched a bit of crap telly while eating. She didn't hear from Sherlock again, and decided on going to bed early. She brought the science journal with her to bed, but instead ended up hugging his pillow to her chest and breathing in the scent of him. This was how she fell asleep.

Sherlock didn't come home until nearly four in the morning. He entered the flat silently, Toby coming to greet him and rub against his ankles. Having successfully solved the case, he was in a far better mood than he had been earlier. He grimaced slightly, thinking back to the text he had sent Molly. He knew he shouldn't have said it, he actually felt a twinge of regret the moment he did. Clearly this woman was having quite an impact upon him; he was a changed man.

After giving the cat a few scratches behind his ears, he straightened and removed his scarf and coat. He let out a bone-weary sigh and proceeded down the hall. Upon entering the bedroom and being greeted with the sight of her curled up asleep in their bed, he felt his weariness ebb away. He quietly closed the door and began to remove his clothing, shoes and socks. He tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt before slowly raising the duvet and sheet, slipping beneath it.

She still was clasping his pillow tightly to her chest. He smiled and slid closer to her, before giving the pillow a gentle tug.

"The real thing is here now, you needn't hold a replacement," he softly murmured into her ear.

She let out the lowest of sighs, and he watched as her arms relaxed. He pulled the pillow away from her, then grasped onto both her wrists and tugged her towards him. A whimper escaped her throat. Her eyes were still closed as she snuggled herself into his chest. He wrapped his arms about her, burying his nose in her hair.

"Solved the case?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"Mmmm." He held her a little bit closer, and she let out another sigh, he tilted his head so that he could press his lips to her temple. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to upset you. I was aggravated and I took it out on you." He exhaled loudly, before placing another kiss upon her temple.

She shifted herself slightly, leaning her head back as she blinked lazily up at him. "S'alright Sherlock." She pressed her lips to his, giving him a soft, sleepy kiss.

He smiled against her mouth then proceeded to tuck the duvet closer around them both. She dropped her head back down onto his chest. He re-situated his pillow, still holding her close. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to overtake him.

The next morning he was woken up by the sensation of her lips upon his neck. He chuckled slightly when she nibbled on the mole he had there, before he grabbed her about the hips tugging her slightly upwards. She gave an answering chuckle, pressing her mouth to his. The kiss deepened as he cradled the back of her head with his hand. Suddenly his stomach growled loudly.

She pulled away from him."I think someone's hungry! You didn't eat when you got home last night?"

He shook his head. "No, the sight of you in bed was far more inviting than any thought of food!"

She smiled slightly then sat up. "I'll make you some breakfast!" She started to move off the bed, but he grabbed her and pulled her back to him.

"The only thing I want to be eating right now is you," he whispered hoarsely.

She let out a slight squeak, her eyes widening. " _Later_! You need to eat first Sherlock!"

He huffed as she moved out of his grasp. He followed her from the bedroom, pulling on his dressing gown, and made his way into the kitchen.

"Hello my sweet!" Molly greeted Toby, he purred loudly, meowing for food.

"Make some coffee please?" she asked Sherlock, looking at him over her shoulder, smirking ever so slightly.

He had been quite obviously ogling her arse as she bent over to feed the cat. Even when fully clothed he could easily be distracted by her. He blinked rapidly several times before moving over to the coffee machine.

She began puttering about, making scrambled eggs and bacon and toast. "I know better than to ask you to make the toast," she giggled out.

He glared at her, thinking back to the night, their  _first_  night together when she had made him eggs and he had horribly burnt the toast several times over. "It wasn't my fault, it was your blasted machine." He sniffed indignantly.

She stepped over to him and placed a kiss upon his cheek."Yes ... I know!"

They sat down to eat and as soon as both their plates were emptied he grabbed her about the waist and hoisted her into his arms.

"Sherlock! The plates should at least be put in the sink!" she shrieked.

He ignored her protests and returned to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He lowered her down to the bed, silencing her with his mouth upon hers. She grabbed a hold of him, tugging him down on top of her.

"You're lucky today is my day off!" she told him when they parted a moment for air.

"Mmm …" He nuzzled her cheek. "You would have had to call in sick if it wasn't. I have no intention of letting you out of my sight today, or out of this bed!"

She raised her eyebrows. "What about when I need to use the loo?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean Molly!"

She giggled slightly, then sighed when he startling kissing his way down her jawline. Several minutes passed in silence; the only sound being their kisses and murmurs of pleasure.

"Sherlock ..."

"Mmmm?"

She tipped her head back so that he could suckle at the base of her throat. "There is one very important aspect to our wedding that we haven't yet discussed."

He stopped what he was doing and lifted up his head to look down at her. "Oh? Do enlighten me!"

She met his gaze. "Invitations! You made the list of who we're inviting, but not once have you said anything to me about picking out invitations!"

He rolled his eyes once more and flopped over onto his back with a loud exhale. "Why must we have actual invitations? Surely a text or an email would suffice!"

She stared up at the ceiling, allowing him to whinge on until he got it out of his system. Once he grew quiet she sat up and fixed her gaze upon him. He stared defiantly back, practically daring her to give him a counter-argument, which is exactly what she was going to do. He crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his bicep. She mirrored his pose, tucking her hands below her t-shirt covered breasts.

"We're doing paper invitations because I want to. It's a nice thing to do." She paused, thinking for a moment, before allowing a smirk to come upon her face.

His eyes widened slightly, the tiniest hint of fear in his expression. He was certain he had been found out. She knew him too well.

Her smirk turned into a full-blown smile, albeit a cheeky one. "You're worried that you'll have to put your full name on the invitation, aren't you? William. Sherlock. Scott. Holmes." She crawled over him and straddled his waist, continuing to cheekily smile.

He let out an indignant huff, but moved his hands to her hips, holding onto her tightly; a sure sign that he wasn't annoyed by her correct deduction. She continued to smile as she leaned down closer to him, brushing the tip of her nose against his.

"You don't have to put your full name if you don't want to," she said. "Even if you told John he had to put Hamish on his."

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched slightly, Molly knew that he was trying not to smile. She bumped his nose again with hers. The smile slowly appeared, mirroring her cheeky one.

"Does this mean you won't be putting your full name either?" His smile grew wider when the apples of her cheeks blushed a faint pink.

"Of course," she admitted. "You know I hate my full name, rather the way you dislike your own!"

He chuckled at her outburst, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing his fingertips against her skin. She shivered slightly and his smile became even cheekier.

"Mollisia. Beatrice. Hooper," he deadpanned, in spite of the jovial expression upon his face, placing emphasis upon each word with a slight pinch to her skin.

She screwed up her mouth then rotated her hips slightly, grinding her core down onto his growing erection. He groaned and tugged her down to him, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He rolled her onto her back, dragging his tongue across her bottom lip.

"Do you -" She sighed against his mouth as his hand began to wander downwards. "Do you know what Mollisia means?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly before lifting up his head and looking down at her. "No."

She smiled slightly, brushing back a few of his curls from his forehead. "Well ... it's a rendition of Melissa ... and Melissa means ... honey bee."

He stared at her for a moment then lowered his head, nuzzling her cheek with his lips. "Hmmm ... appropriately named."

She giggled, crossing her arms over the back of his neck as he moved his mouth downward.

"Should I start calling you my honey bee?" he murmured.

She gave his curls a slight tug. "I thought you didn't like using names of endearment?"

"Mmm ... usually no ... but in this case, I may make an exception."

She giggled again. "Too bad none of your names mean flower!"

A low growl escaped him. He lifted up his head and covered her mouth with his own. "Enough talking," he panted out, before kissing her again.

Their kisses shifted from passionate and deep, to sweet and soft. Then suddenly he reared back onto his knees and pulled her up with him.

"Off with this," he stated firmly, giving her shirt a tug.

As she worked on removing her clothing, Sherlock took off his. Once they were both entirely naked he pushed her back down onto the bed and covered her body with his own. Molly moaned into his mouth as he kissed her again, loving the feeling of his skin against hers. He broke away from her and began to leave a trail of open-mouth kisses down the length of her neck, but suddenly he stopped and brought himself back up until he was hovering directly over her.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Molly … have you-" He swallowed. "Have you ever heard of sixty-nine?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles* heh ...


	28. Have You Ever Heard of Sixty-Nine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you to every single person who leaves a review. I love you all so much!
> 
> At long last! I am updating again! 
> 
> Once more the blame goes to real life … bleh! My Aunt’s wedding was last weekend, and I had family visiting because of it so I was quite busy. And a lot of the times during the week the last thing I want to do is sit on my computer at home, seeing as that’s what I do all day at work!
> 
> Anyway, enough talking, on to the chapter! This is a nice long one! Nearly 8,000 words! ;) Enjoy!!

* * *

Sherlock swallowed before asking her, "Have you ever heard of sixty-nine?"

Molly's brow furrowed. "The … number?" she asked slowly.

He let out a noise of exasperation."Yes, it's a  _number_  but it's also a … a sexual act!"

Her eyes widened and laughter bubbled up her throat, bursting forth loudly. "Oh that! Yes! I have heard of that! Why?" She quieted her laughter when she noticed the faintest bit of pink tingeing his cheeks.

"Would … would you like to … do it?" he stammered out.

She blinked at him for a moment, sucking in her bottom lip before answering, "Absolutely!"

His eyebrows shot up."Really?"

"Of course" she said with a smile. "I've never done it … but it has always interested me."

"Mmm, good, a new experience for us both!"

She chortled as he moved onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. "I do love how you enjoy sexually experimenting!" she said as she gave one of his nipples a teasing tweak with her fingers.

"It's the best kind of experiment!" he declared, grabbing her hand.

She tilted her head to the side. "A never-ending one?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "I think so … yes, that's quite possible."

She giggled, splaying her hands out onto his chest. "You don't think our height difference will make it … difficult … do you?"

He shook his head. "No. Our bodies fit together quite nicely. I see no reason why a change in  _position_  should be a hindrance."

"Shall we then?" She gave a suggestive wiggle of her hips, letting him know how very wet for him she already was.

He nodded before gasping out, "Yes." He gave both of her hips a tap with his fingertips. "Turn about, and situate yourself over me."

She did as he asked, her back now to him, but before she could slide herself upwards he pulled on her hips until she was straddled over his face. His hold on her hips tightened as he tugged her downwards. She let out a soft squeal of delight as he took no time in delving his tongue directly between her folds.

Dropping forward she placed her hands on either side of his legs, before giving the length of his cock a swipe with her tongue from bottom to tip. He swore against her, the vibrations causing her to moan. He began to fuck her with his merciless tongue, and she worked both her hands and mouth upon him.

They quickly settled into a joint rhythm, the room filling with the sounds of their moans and the noises that their mouths were making upon each other's bodies. When Sherlock removed his tongue from her centre, sliding his mouth upwards to latch onto her clit, she all but cried out around his cock as he thrust two of his fingers into her core.

As her orgasm grew closer Molly released him from between her lips, dropping her forehead down to his inner thigh, panting against his skin as he continued to move his fingers inside of her and suck on her clit. She cried out against him, clutching tightly to the sheets, her inner walls shuddering around his fingers. He slid them out, and gave one last kiss to her clit before he gently lifted her off of him and laid her down onto her back.

"But I didn't finish you off!" she murmured, her words coming out jerkily as she tried to catch her breath.

He shook his head, wiping his mouth and face clean with the back of his hand, before turning himself about so that he was now stretched out alongside her. He placed a kiss upon the tip of her nose.

"I was afraid I'd hurt you. You know how I can get," she offered as an explanation.

He made a noise of agreement; his skin still faintly covered in her teeth indentations. He didn't mind though, he rather liked being marked by her, as much as he enjoyed leaving his own mark on her body. Her breathing was slowly beginning to return to normal. She laid one hand upon his thigh, ever so softly stroking his skin with her fingertips, moving her hand gradually towards its desired destination.

Their gaze was locked on each other's. When she took his erection in her hand, his eyes widened slightly. She smiled at him, teasing the very tip with her thumb. His eyes fell closed, his forehead coming to rest against her neck, his breath hitting her skin as he let out quiet gasps. She continued to work her hand upon him, switching from stroking his cock with her fingers to pumping him with her entire palm. He groaned against her, his hand grabbing tightly onto her arm.

His hips rose slightly, her name leaving his mouth in a garbled cry as he came. He shuddered against her, easing his grasp on her arm, his breath hot against her neck. She turned her head slightly, placing a kiss upon his forehead.

"You didn't have to do that …" he gasped out, his face faintly flushed.

She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I know, I wanted too."

He glanced downwards, his flush deepening ever so slightly. "I'll grab some tissues."

But when he made to move away from her she grabbed him. "Don't. Not yet. You don't have to yet. Just relax for little while."

He gratefully lay back down beside her, and draped his arm across her, directly beneath her breasts. She kissed him again, and it took only moments for him to kiss her back.

"Four days without you," he growled out suddenly.

She breathed out a laugh. "Technically it's only three. We'll be coming back Monday afternoon."

He scowled. "It's too long."

"Sherlock … you'll survive. And DON'T. YOU. DARE. Try and follow us. Just give me this one weekend and I'll never leave you alone again, all right?"

He was full-blown pouting now.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff. "We can shag as many times as you want when I get back!"

He let out a huff of his own, pressing his face into her shoulder. "It's not just about the sex, Molly. I'll miss you!" His voice was muffled, but she was able to make out every word.

She brought her hand up to his hair. "I'll miss you too. I always miss you when we're apart. Sometimes it's a good thing to do … spend some time away from each other."

His eyes peered up at her. "Like that time when I experimented on your knickers?"

"Mmmm … remember how great the sex was? When we got back together?"

He breathed out against her. "Yes, but we were arguing, that was make-up sex."

"Well … maybe we'll get into an argument before I leave?"

He blinked at her. "You want us to fight just so that we can have make-up sex when you return?"

She shrugged.

His eyes widened. "Why didn't I ever think of that? Brilliant idea. So simple."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh no you don't. Do not purposely try to make me mad at you Sherlock! That's ridiculous!"

"What's so ridiculous about it? I'm making you mad right now, aren't I?"

She scowled. "I'm not mad, just annoyed."

He humphed then grumbled into her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes again. For a few minutes neither one of them spoke. He moved onto his back, throwing his arm up onto the pillow.

"What exactly did you mean, when you said that it can be a good thing to spend time away from each other?" he asked suddenly.

She moved onto her side, facing him. "It can be a good thing because it allows couples to miss each other, and you can focus on just yourself instead of always thinking about your significant other."

Sherlock turned his head and looked at her. "But I do both those things when you're here; I'm always thinking about myself and I'm always thinking about you."

Molly breathed out slowly through her nose. "When you miss someone, it makes you appreciate them all the more. It makes you look forward to seeing them again, being with them again. You realize how important they are to you."

He curled himself back up against her, nuzzling her jawline with his nose. "But I know all of these things already. I do appreciate you; I do look forward to seeing you and being with you (preferably in bed), and I do know how important you are. I've told you that before, you're the one who matters most."

She let out a defeated laugh, certain that she would never be able to make him understand the point that she was trying to get at. "I'm still going to Paris."

A disappointed noise escaped him as he nibbled on her earlobe. He then let out a sigh and sat up, moving off of the bed. She watched him silently as he walked towards the bathroom.

He returned moments later with a damp cloth in his hands. He wiped her torso clean, planting a kiss by her navel, before bringing the cloth back into the bathroom. When he came back to the bed he pulled the sheet up over them and lay back down. He wasn't as close to her as he had been before, but at least he hadn't turned his back on her.

"Is that it for tonight then?" she asked him, curious to know if he was going to enter into one of his long sulks.

"It would appear so."

"Sherlock." She dragged out his name as she sat up and moved closer to him. "Don't be like this. Please. It's just one weekend away. There's no need for you to get so upset about it."

His jaw tightened. "I am not upset."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then what do you call this?" She ran her fingertip over his protruding bottom lip. "I think Mr. Holmes is pouting!" She leaned down and gave his lip a nibble with her teeth. She let out a shriek when he abruptly grabbed her about the waist, and rolled her onto her back. "Ohhh! Not so much of a grump now are you?!" she teased, smiling up at him.

"Quiet," he hissed before covering her mouth with his own and kissing her deeply.

* * *

The next day, while Molly was doing a bit of food shopping before she had to go in for her graveyard shift, Sherlock sent her a text.

 _John is planning a Stag Night for me._  - SH

 _That's nice of him_. - Mx

 _Has he come to you for ideas?_  - SH

 _No. I haven't spoken to him recently_. - Mx

 _Mary must be helping him_. - SH

 _I am sure that he is perfectly capable of planning your Stag Night on his own._  - Mx

 _You don't know him as well as I do._  - SH

She shook her head and grabbed a bottle of milk from off the shelf.

 _Be sure to get more Jaffa Cakes. You finished the last package yesterday._  - SH

Molly stared down at her phone screen. How the hell did the man know she was out shopping? She hadn't told him!

 _I saw you writing a list earlier this morning._  - SH

The way he always managed to know exactly what she was thinking, frightened her sometimes.

 _Anything else you want me to get?_  - Mx

 _We're out of crisps._  - SH

 _And chocolate digestives._  - SH

 _Are you planning on only eating snack foods while I'm away?_  - Mx

 _No_. - SH

 _I'll get takeaway._  - SH

 _What happened to you eating healthier_? - Mx

 _You won't be here to tell me what to eat_. - SH

 _I can get Mrs. Hudson to nag you_. - Mx

 _You wouldn't dare._  - SH

 _Try me._  - Mx

She could practically hear him grumbling. The texts ended then, and she was able to finish up her shopping in peace. When she returned to the flat he was sprawled out across the sofa with his laptop upon his stomach.

"I thought you were out with John, on a case?" she said to him as she began to put the food away.

"Solved it," he told her, continuing to tap away at the keyboard.

"Ahh. Are you working on the wedding?"

"Mmm … yes. There are some absolutely appalling shades of yellow."

She giggled as she put the last item away and stepped out of the kitchen, walking towards him. Without a word from her he slid himself over as far as he could go, making just the right amount of room for her to stretch herself out alongside of him. She curled her body up against his, hooking her leg over his own as they shared a tender kiss.

"A soft, pale yellow would be nice," she told him, brushing her nose up against his shoulder. "Nothing vibrant."

"Something … like this?" He clicked on one of his tabs.

"Oh yes, that's perfect!" she said. "And how about we have some grey, dove grey? And perhaps use the yellow as an accent colour?"

"Grey is good. Since my suit will be grey, yes I think that will work. Any chance that your dress will be yellow?"

She blinked at him. "I'm not telling you."

He stuck out his bottom lip. "Fine."

She gave his shoulder a kiss before she sat up. "I'm going to go take a nap before my shift, care to join me?" She turned around to look at him. "And I mean an actual nap, with actual sleeping," she quickly added, noting how his eyes lit up.

His pout returned. "I'll lay with you, if you like, but I won't sleep."

"That's perfectly all right. I sleep better when you're in the bed with me."

Several hours later Molly was sat in front of a microscope, studying a blood sample, when suddenly a deep baritone spoke in her ear.

"Anything interesting?"

She shrieked, jumping several centimeters in the air before spinning about to glare at her fiance. "Sherlock! You can't sneak up on me like that!"

He gave her a smug look and crossed his arms over his chest. "Apparently I can, because I just did."

She cast upon him a weary look. "Why are you here?"

He held up a small glass jar. "Soil samples. From a crime scene. I'm certain the murder took place in one area, and that the body was moved and was dumped in another location. This should prove it." He sat down at the microscope beside her and began to unscrew the top of the jar.

She watched him for a moment. "Don't I get a kiss hello?" She glanced around them. "We are alone."

He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. "Of course! I completely forgot! You know how I get when I'm on a case." He stood.

She smiled at him. "Yes, I do. Which is why I'm reminding you."

He stepped closer to her, moving his body in-between her legs before cradling her face in his hands. "If I'm ever not giving you the proper attention, please tell me."

Her smile widened, her hands coming to rest on his hips. "I will, don't you worry!" She hooked her fingers into his belt loops and gave him a tug forward.

He dropped his mouth down to hers, kissing her deeply. After a few moments he let out a sound of annoyance and pulled away from her. "This is not a comfortable position, you're down too low." He wrapped his arms about her and lifted her off of the chair.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?" she cried out as he carried her towards a nearly empty table.

"I'm placing you upon a higher surface so that you are at a more convenient height," he explained to her as he set her down.

Just as he was about to place his mouth upon hers she put her hands onto his chest stopping him. "I asked for a kiss, not a full-blown snog!"

He smirked. "When do we ever  _just_  kiss Molly?"

"Sherlock! I'm at work! And we're in the lab where anyone can walk in on us at any moment!"

His smirk shifted into a smile. "Mmmm, no _p_ e! I locked the door behind me."

"You can't do that! You're going to get me in trouble."

His shook his head. "Hardly. And if someone did say something, Mycroft would take care of it!"

She rolled her eyes, but moved her hands up to the back of his neck. "You're unbelievable."

His smile turned into a pout. "You're going away in a couple of days. Allow me to enjoy you while I still can!"

"Oh my word Sherlock! You're making it sound like I am going away for months! It's four bloody days!"

His hold on her tightened. "Four days without you is a long time! Won't you miss me at all? Won't you miss this?" He stepped closer, molding her body against his, allowing her to feel his very prominent erection.

"Yes, I will! But that isn't going to prevent me from going!"

He growled slightly. "Then allow me to indulge myself in the pleasure of your body!"

A soft moan escaped her when he cupped the front of her trousers in his hand, pressing the heel of his palm into her, giving just the right amount of pressure against her clit.

"God damnit Sherlock!" she exclaimed. "We can't shag in here! There's bloody cameras!"

"No _p_ e. I fiddled with them so that they're on a recording of a loop. I'll change it back when we're finished!" As he told her this his hands were working furiously to undo the button and zip of her trousers, as well as the buttons on her blouse.

Molly let out a near growl of her own as she tugged him down to her and kissed him deeply, her own fingers moving to undo his trousers. Once their necessary clothes had been divested off, Sherlock shoved her knickers to the side, knowing how much she liked it when he shagged her while she was still wearing them. He plunged two of his fingers into her core, drowning out her cry with his mouth upon hers.

"God Molly," he panted. "You're always so wet for me." He pumped his fingers in her, pressing his thumb to her clit.

She whimpered, and within moments her orgasm was crashing over her. He pulled his fingers out of her and sucked them clean before taking his cock in his hand and placing the head directly at her entrance. With one swift thrust he filled her with his length.

"Yes! Fuck me Sherlock! Oh God!" Molly cried out.

Her inner walls were still quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm as he thrust into her again and again. She clung to him as he pushed down the cups of her bra so that he could latch his mouth onto one nipple and take the other in-between his fingertips. He continued to enter her deeply and she hissed into his neck, giving a slight nip at his skin as she locked her legs around him, rocking her hips against his.

He swore loudly around her breast in his mouth, picking up the pace. She began to moan incessantly, his pelvis pressing against her clit with every thrust. He released her nipple from between his lips and kissed her, once more drowning out her noises. Within moments her body was shaking around his, and with one final thrust he stilled, pressing himself against her and groaning into her neck. They panted against each other, Molly running her hand through the slightly sweaty curls on the back of his head. He moved himself slightly, keeping his body locked against hers, but allowing himself to place a kiss upon the base of her neck.

"That was … mmm … that was intense!" she murmured to him.

He chuckled. "Well, it's been nearly a day since we've had sex …"

She answered his chuckle with one of her own. "Yes, so just imagine how great the sex will be when I get back!"

He sighed against her. "I suppose so. Something to look forward to!"

She moved her hand from the back of his head to cup his cheek so that she could bring him forward to face her. "Yes, something to look forward to indeed!" She gave his lips a gentle kiss.

He slid himself out of her and after they cleaned themselves up and put their clothes back on, she made him go and fix the cameras. He grumbled but did as she requested. She returned to her microscope and a few minutes later he came back into the lab and began to study his soil samples.

An hour later the murder victim was brought to the morgue by Lestrade and Molly set in to do the autopsy. Sherlock had been right, of course, the murder had taken place in one spot and the body dumped in another.

* * *

The following day was her departure and she was currently gathering up the last few items of clothing and toiletries that she needed. She turned to place them in her suitcase and saw Toby sprawled out across it. Rolling her eyes she set down the items in her hands onto the bed and picked up the cat, hugging him to her chest. "Honestly, you're just as bad as Sherlock!" She gave Toby a kiss before placing him down onto the floor and returned to finish her packing. Once the suitcase was zipped up she rolled it out to the door.

Sherlock was curled up in his chair with his back to her, pouting. Molly couldn't help but think that he was acting like a child, silently throwing a tantrum. She gave her jumper a tug and walked over to him.

"Is this all you're going to do while I am away?" she asked.

He humphed. "No. John's taking me out for my Stag Night. I'd much rather stay here."

"And sulk? Honestly Sherlock, you're being ridiculous! I'll be back before you know it. Maybe I'll call Mycroft and ask him to pop in for a visit."

Sherlock glared at her over his shoulder. "Don't. You. Dare," he spat out.

She giggled. "I'm only teasing. Please try to at least make it look like you're enjoying yourself tonight. John's put a lot of planning into this."

He sighed wearily. "If I must!"

"Oh bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "Do I have to shag you again before I leave? A smile at least would be nice!"

He smiled.

She shook her head. "Pathetic. Completely half-arsed."

He grumbled and curled back into himself.

"Perhaps I should go get your riding crop and give you a few good hits with it."

He turned to peer at her with widened eyes. "Turned kinky have we?"

She smiled widely. "Ahh, I got your attention now."

"I knew you were turned on that day," he said, "when I used the riding crop in the morgue; dilated eyes, increased pulse. I also knew you were asking me out for coffee, not  _offering_  to make me some. You surprised me that day, and you've continued to surprise me ever since. You always have my attention, even when it doesn't seem like it."

Her smile grew soft. "I'm still going to Paris, Sherlock … even though all that you just said was incredibly sweet."

He shrugged. "Worth a try." He uncurled himself, stretching out his legs. Without asking she climbed onto his lap and tucked herself in around him. He didn't seem to mind. She laid her head on his shoulder and peered up at him.

"Sherlock ... what exactly is it that's really bothering you?" she asked. "I know you're not worried about my safety because I'll be with Mary ... so what is it?"

He looked away from her. She always knew that when he couldn't meet her gaze that this meant he was dealing with an emotion he was unaccustomed to.

"Sherlock?" She cupped his chin in her hand before gliding her fingertips over the line of his jaw. "Please look at me."

His eyes slowly moved to meet hers, and what she saw in his gaze very nearly made her gasp; it was fear. Without saying a word she pulled him close to her, holding onto him tightly, nuzzling his neck the way that she knew that he liked. He held onto her just as tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"Please don't think like that Sherlock," she said softly. "I would never,  _ever_  leave you! Why do you still doubt me?" She leaned back, cradling his face in her hands.

"It's not you that I doubt, it's me," he admitted. "I still don't understand why you are still with me, marrying me."

She gave his head a gentle tug, tilting him downwards so that their foreheads could touch, their eyes meeting.

"That's not just it though, is it?" she asked. "There's more to it than that."

He sighed, moving his arms until they were placed tightly around her lower back, his eyes falling closed. He only spoke one word, "Redbeard."

She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones, remembering the conversation she had had with Sherrinford about the dog that Sherlock had when he was younger.

"He's the reason why you shut yourself off for so long, isn't it?" she said gently. "Why you've denied yourself to love, and be loved."

Sherlock nodded, his eyes still closed.

"You're afraid of experiencing that loss again," she said.

His hold on her tightened. She moved her head slightly so that she could brush the tip of her nose against his.

"I can't guarantee that you never will experience that feeling again," she acknowledged, an his eyes flew open, meeting hers. "We can't foresee the future," she continued. "We don't know what may happen. All we can do is enjoy the time together that we are given. 'It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.'"

She leaned back slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "All of these years that we've known each other I have never stopped loving you, after all we've gone through I've never given up on you. I never will! You know this Sherlock ..." She placed her hand over his heart, feeling its steady beating. "Deep down you know this. Please stop doubting me and yourself,  _please_. Stop doubting us. We're together, and we're staying together."

He nodded once more and she enveloped him in her arms, holding onto him as firmly as she could.

"I love you so much Sherlock and I always will."

He hid his face in her neck, and she could feel the movement of his lips against her skin as he whispered back, "I love you too."

They held each other silently for several moments as she ran her fingers through his curls. Toby walked into the room and jumped up onto John's chair, then proceeded to move about in a circle before curling himself up, tucking his tail around him. He eyed them suspiciously, ready to make a run for it if they decided to become  _noisy_.

Molly turned her head, nestling beneath Sherlock's chin. "Don't worry if you forget to feed Toby … Mrs. Hudson already told me that she'll be checking in on him. And don't you dare try to experiment on him while I'm away!"

Sherlock sniffed. "I won't. You know I won't."

She moved her head in order to nuzzle his throat. He was slowly running his hand up down her back. Suddenly the sound of a car horn cut through the silence.

"That's Meena and Mary." She leaned back, cupped his face in her hands and gave him a long, deep kiss, and he held her close, returning the kiss.

"I'll be back soon. Try and behave. I love you." She kissed him again.

His hold on her slowly loosened. "Go, the meter is running."

She stood up, but leaned back down to kiss him once more. "I love you," she repeated.

"Love you too."

She grabbed her suitcase and gave him another look before exiting the flat, and hurrying down the stairs. She was greeted with a chorus of happy cheers as she got into the cab.

"PARIS!" Meena exclaimed.

"NO HUSBAND! NO BABY!" Mary called out.

Molly shook her head and looked out the window, gazing upwards. She could just make out Sherlock's silhouette. She knew that he could see her. She mouthed "I love you" to him once more, just as the cab pulled away.

A short while later they arrived at the train station. Once they had boarded and the three of them had settled down into their seats, Molly took out her tablet and opened up her book app. It had been some time since she had managed to settle down and read a novel. Sherlock had always managed to convince her to come to bed with him (this did not take a lot of convincing) or he wanted to discuss the wedding.

"What book are you reading?" Meena asked her as she thumbed through a magazine she had brought. Meena was never one for reading novels, every once in awhile she would delve into a good chick-lit, but for the most part she preferred magazines. Having shared a room with Molly during their uni days, she was well aware of how much her friend loved to read.

"Mary Shelley's,  _Frankenstein_ ," Molly replied. "I'm actually re-reading it, because it was ages ago when I first did, and I don't remember the story all too well."

Meena nodded and returned to her magazine. Molly noticed for the first time that Mary was holding a book of her own.

"Is that Fabio on the cover?" Molly asked.

Mary let out a slight snort, then a giggle. "Mmm yeah, cheesy romance novels are my weakness. I haven't really had any time to read since Emily's been born. Figured I'd take the advantage of the two hour train ride."

Meena laid her magazine down on her lap. "I tried to read one of those once, I couldn't get through it I kept on laughing!"

Mary let out another giggle. "Yeah, I only read it as a form of amusement."

"Did you ever read  _Fifty Shades of Gray_?" Meena asked her with a raised eyebrow.

Molly rolled her eyes, wondering to herself how anyone could read such trash.

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Absolutely not. That book is disgusting and should have never been published. Absolutely horrible. I wouldn't dare waste my brain cells."

Meena smiled. "Glad to hear it, now I can officially call you my friend."

Mary blinked at her then let out a chuckle. "Do you rate the quality of a person by if they ever read  _Fifty Shades_?"

Meena returned to her magazine with a smug look. "Why yes, of course!"

Molly shook her head, faintly smiling as she returned to reading her book.

A short while later the three of them laid down their reading material to discuss their plans for the evening.

"So, we should be getting to Paris around 15.30," Meena said to them as she looked over the schedule she had typed up on her phone. "I think we should perhaps check in to the hotel, unpack a bit then go have something to eat? We can go back to our room afterwards, shower or change, and then head on out for a night of partying!"

Molly was putting her tablet back into her bag when she asked, "Do you have it all planned out where we are going? Are we bar hopping or what?"

"No, we're not bar hopping," Meena answered. "Mary and I have planned this weekend down to a tee. We'll be going to a club tonight for some dancing and drinking! When was the last time you went out dancing Molly? The last two times I asked you to join me you came up with some pathetic excuse!"

She grimaced slightly. "Well ... it wasn't a good time. I had just broken things off with Tom and I wasn't really in the mood to go dancing. Sorry ..."

Meena chewed on her bottom lip. "Don't apologize, you had every right to say no."

Mary decided it was time for her to butt in and change up the sudden downtrodden mood. "I haven't gone dancing since ... well if you must know, it's been five years."

Meena stared at her. "Five years? You actually have it calculated?"

Mary shrugged. "Yeah. Bit embarrassing really. The last time I did any form of dancing was at my wedding."

Molly eyed her friend, knowing that Mary must have sacrificed a lot during her former employment. Meena clapped her hands together.

"That means that tonight we have to make sure to have a fantastic time drinking and dancing!" Meena declared. "Let's leave all of our worries behind us and just focus on enjoying the night!"

They arrived in Paris, gathered up their things and went to get a cab. Molly stared out the window in wonder, having forgotten how much she loved this city. It had been far too long since she had been here. She would definitely have to mention to Sherlock that she would love to come here with him. He would probably scoff at her though, spouting over how it was so ridiculously named 'the city of love.' She mentally shook her head, thinking that perhaps he wouldn't say that; he was deep down quite the romantic.

Molly had turned her phone off during the train ride, not wanting the battery to drain from it trying to find a signal. When she turned it back on she had six texts, all from Sherlock. The first three were him telling her how much he missed her. She suppressed the urge to let out a snort, feeling her cheeks burn when she read them. The bastard had the gall to tell her what he planned to do to her when she got back. She knew that he was doing this on purpose, to make her regret going away. A thought came to her and she couldn't help but smile a little; she would definitely have to act upon it. The next three texts had to do with the wedding: questions about if she felt it was necessary to have a flower girl and a ring bearer (she didn't), and if she wanted to write her own vows (she did), the last one she had to read over several times to fully grasp his meaning.

 _You know that I am not a religious man, and you haven't been to mass in years, do you require being married by someone of the cloth?_  - SH

His choice of words 'someone of the cloth' threw her a bit at first. Sherlock was a truly modern man, but he did have the tendency to talk rather old-fashioned at times. She replied to his first two questions then thought for a moment before answering his third one.

 _I don't require that at all. Did you have someone in mind?_  - Mx

 _Mycroft._  - SH

She couldn't hold back her snort this time. Mary and Meena stared at her, waiting for an explanation as she nearly doubled over with laughter. Once she had calmed a bit she cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"Sherlock wants to have Mycroft officiate our wedding," she told them. The three of them dissolved into giggles, much to the chagrin of the taxi driver.

"Do you think he'll hold his brolly?" Mary wondered, setting them all laughing again.

As they struggled for breath Molly wrote back a reply.

 _Do you think he'll say yes?_  - Mx

 _I'll threaten him with Mummy if he won't._  - SH

 _Of course you would. Well, I'm not sure many people can say that they were married by the British Government!_  - Mx

 _Is that something people gloat about?_  - SH

 _Not usually, no. It's just in this case it's a bit out of the ordinary_. - Mx

 _People really do care about the most trivial of things._  - SH

Molly rolled her eyes and tucked away her phone seeing as they had just arrived outside of the hotel.

"Oh, this place is beautiful! Excellent choice!" Molly said to them as they got out of the cab. " _Hotel de Latour Maubourg_ ," she read. "Oh God, my French is so rusty, I'm sure I butchered the pronunciation of that!"

"Wait until you see our room!" Meena beamed at her.

They checked in and proceeded upstairs to the third floor. Earlier on in the decision process the three of them had decided to share one room; Meena and Molly would take the bed, and Mary the sofa. Molly's mouth dropped open as they walked in.

"Oh girls," she breathed. "This is beautiful!"

The room was small yet cozy. The decor was a warm plum, with toile wallpaper. The view from the bathroom, which was beautifully modernized, was of the Paris skyline. There was also a bottle of champagne, a box of macarons and a beautiful bouquet of roses.

"Do you like it?" Mary and Meena asked in unison.

"Like it? I love it!" Molly pulled them both into a hug.

"Let's pop the champagne!" Mary said as she moved towards the bottle. While she poured them drinks, Meena and Molly delved into the macarons.

"Oh God, these are delicious! It's been an age since I've eaten a real, true French macaron!" Meena moaned.

Mary handed them each a glass then took up her own. They raised their glasses.

"To le weekend!" They all spoke in unison, clinking their glasses together.

After they each took a sip they began to unpack.

"Are we going to go to a restaurant and have dinner? Or just to a cafe?" Molly asked, as she looked over the clothes she had brought.

"I was thinking a restaurant; we should probably eat a decent-sized meal, since we are planning on going out drinking later," Mary answered.

" _Le Divellec_  is not too far from here," Meena noted. "I looked up a few places to eat nearby and this place looked really nice. The food sounded delicious!"

"Let's go there, then!" Molly stated, grabbing a fresh pair of trousers and a blouse. "I'm quite famished. I can already feel the affects of the champagne and I've barely had three sips!"

After the three of them had changed and freshened up a bit they walked out of the hotel and made their way towards the restaurant.

"This city is so incredibly beautiful! We should have come back so much sooner Meena!" Molly said to her.

"I know, it really has been too long."

"I love this city. I used to live here," Mary said to them.

Molly looked at her. "Did you?"

"Yes. It was quite a long time ago. But I loved it. I was very happy here."

Molly stared at her in wonder, realizing that there was a lot about Mary that she didn't know.

The restaurant was busy, but as soon as Mary gave her name they were ushered to a table. Molly couldn't help but wonder if Mycroft had anything to do with it. They shared a bottle of red wine and divulged in a ridiculously delicious meal. Molly was quite happy to walk back to the hotel, in spite of Meena's protests.

"I need to try and walk off some of the butter I consumed!" Molly explained to her.

With a sniff Meena complied. When they got back to the hotel Mary stretched herself out onto the sofa.

"Call me an old lady, but I feel due for a nap! Large meals always make me sleepy!" She ended her sentence with a yawn, patting her stomach contentedly. "Besides I hardly get any decent sleep anymore, thanks to Elizabeth." She closed her eyes.

Molly and Meena sat on the bed.

"A rest sounds like a nice idea," Molly noted. "Especially if we're planning to dance the night away!" After kicking off her shoes, she stretched herself out on the bed.

Meena scrunched up her nose. "I haven't taken a nap in years."

Molly rolled her eyes. "And that's because you never work graveyard shifts!"

Meena nodded her head in agreement.

"You don't have to go to sleep, just relax." Molly muted her phone before setting it down on the table beside the bed. She lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes, crossing her arms over her stomach.

The three of them managed to doze for several hours. When they woke it was dark out.

"Would you hate me if I wanted to take a shower?" Molly asked.

Meena rolled her eyes. "No. Not at all. A shower actually sounds like a fantastic idea."

Mary called out in agreement. "Yes please! I wouldn't mind showering myself!"

Later, after the three of them had showered and gotten dressed, Molly was slipping on her shoes when a thought came to her.

"You do realize that Mycroft is going to have some of his men tailing us all night?" she asked,

Mary snorted and Meena chuckled, waving her hand dismissively." Yes, yes, we know! We know! Sherlock spoke to both of us individually."

"I put my foot down at him telling us that Mycroft would give us one of his cars," Mary told her. "I didn't think you'd appreciate being escorted around in one of those fancy vehicles."

"Thank you. You are correct," Molly agreed. "I don't need to be driven around like a celebrity!"

Once they each had a final check in the mirror they left the hotel. They quickly got a cab and Mary gave the address of where they were going.

"So what is this club you are taking me to?" Molly asked as she smoothed out the fabric of her dress over her knees.

"It's called  _Kong_!" Meena replied. "I looked at it online; the place looks and sounds like it's fantastic. It's on top of a building that overlooks the Seine; it's entirely enclosed in glass. The view is supposed to be amazing!"

Mary smiled widely. "I can't wait to get out on the dance floor! I'm quite happy I took that nap and shower, I feel very refreshed."

Both Molly and Meena each made a noise of agreement. A few minutes later they arrived at their destination. Just like with the restaurant, Mary gave her name and they were quickly ushered in, and Meena had been right, the view was incredible. Molly was certain she could have sat in front of one of the many windows and just watched the city of light. But the pumping music and bar was very enticing.

They got a table and Meena went to get them drinks. They decided to imbibe a bit with alcohol before hitting the dance floor. The place was packed with people, but not to the point that it was uncomfortable. Molly was only on her second drink when she saw her phone light up with a text notification.

 _Molly, what do you think of 'Murder on the Dance Floor' by Sophie-Ellis Bextor as the song for our First Dance?_  - SH

She stared down at her screen, blinking at it in wonder. She then shook her head and took a deep breath before typing back a reply.

 _ABSOLUTELY NOT SHERLOCK! That isn't a remotely romantic song. I'm honestly not surprised, but no Sherlock, the answer is NO. Let me guess, you typed in murder in my iTunes search, didn't you? Just to see what would come up?_  - Mx

 _Possibly. Are you entirely certain your answer is no?_  - SH

 _SHERLOCK!_  - Mx

 _Fine_. - SH

 _Does this mean I should let you choose the song_? - SH

 _Yes._  - Mx

 _ONLY if you don't choose something horribly sentimental._  - SH

 _Don't worry Sherlock, I won't choose something that will make you cringe. I know you well enough_. - Mx

 _Thank you. And yes, you do know me well, a bit too well._  - SH

 _:D_  - Mx

She could only imagine him sighing and shaking his head. He really did hate it when she used emoji's; he thought them to be both ridiculous and childish. She often used them on purpose to taunt him. She was about to put her phone back into her bag when another text came through.

 _Change of plans. You needn't pick a song, I already have one_. - SH

She let out another breath.

 _What do you mean? What song?_  - Mx

_It's a surprise. - SH_

_Sherlock ..._  - Mx

 _It won't upset you, I promise. You'll love it._  - SH

 _All right, I trust you._  - Mx

 _Thank you._  - SH

A couple of moments passed before he sent another text.

 _Can I at least add the Murder song to the wedding playlist?_ \- SH

She giggled to herself, imagining that he was probably currently playing the song on repeat. The git claimed that he hated most of the music she listened to, but she was highly aware that he had the tendency to knick her iPod when he thought she wasn't looking.

_Yes, that's perfectly fine Sherlock. And let me guess, I won't know what the song is for our First Dance until our wedding, am I correct? - Mx_

_Your deduction skills are improving._  - SH

 _Good to know_. - Mx

 _Your song choices for the wedding are absolutely appalling_. - SH

 _You told me you wouldn't complain._  - Mx

 _I'm not complaining, I'm stating fact._  - SH

She let out an annoyed huff, beginning to feel the affects of the alcohol in her veins. Her ability to keep her temper from flaring always lessened when she was under the influence.

 _I'm turning my phone off now. Love you. We'll talk tomorrow. Enjoy tonight._  - Mx

She didn't wait for a reply from Sherlock before shutting off her phone. She tossed it into her clutch and gulped down the last of her drink. "MEN! Bloody hell!" she exclaimed loudly.

"I told you he would eventually drive you mad!" Mary crowed, before throwing back a shot of whiskey.

Molly winced at the sight, positively hating the taste of whiskey. "Oh Mary, you have no idea." Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as she thought back to a specific moment.

Meena's eyes narrowed then widened to an almost comical size. "What did the git do?"

Molly's entire face turned bright red; she clamped her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

"Oh you have to tell us now! You can't just leave us hanging!" Meena gave Molly's shoulder a playful shove.

She moved to cover her face with both hands.

"You have to tell us Molly …" Mary stated before taking another shot. "Now that you've piqued our interest it's just not fair."

She dropped her hands away from her face and took a deep breath, her face still burning brightly. "Not that long ago ... during sex ... he came upon an idea, and he pulled out to go write it down."

Meena and Mary both roared with laughter, causing a few people nearby to turn about and glare at them.

Meena moved to her feet, wobbling slightly. "This calls for another round of drinks!" she announced loudly before making her way towards the bar.

Molly once more hid her face in her hands, feeling the heat from her cheeks pressed against her palms, before letting out a groan. "Oh God, I'm marrying a Groomzilla!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe! Groomzilla! *snort* 
> 
> All of the places I mentioned do exist in Paris! Hotel de Latour Maubourg, Le Divellec and Kong. The room they are staying in at the hotel is the Junior Suite Empire. The place looks amazing, definitely check out the website! Sadly I have never been to Paris, but it is a dream of mine to go there!!
> 
> Also, I have this total headcanon that Sherlock absolutely loves the song ‘Murder on the Dance Floor’ and that he would totally rock out to it! 
> 
> I’ll try to update more quickly, but I can’t guarantee anything. I do have a decent bit of the next chapter written, so we shall see!


	29. I'm Marrying a Groomzilla!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! I'm finally bringing you another chapter! :)
> 
> Let's see what shenanigans these girls get up to in Paris! ;)

\---

“Oh God, I’m marrying a Groomzilla!” Molly groaned as she hid her face in her hands. A bright and colourful drink was placed down in front of her.  
  
“Molly Hooper!” Meena exclaimed loudly, already slurring slightly. “Now is not the time to be focusing on the fact that Ssshhhherlock is driving you batty! We are all here to enjoy ourselves in Paris and get deliciously drunk!”  
  
Mary giggled as she took a generous sip of her drink. “It’s true Molly! You need to just let go and have fun.”  
  
Molly dropped her hands away from her face and grabbed at the glass in front of her and took a sip. “You’re both right, I’m sorry. I really should be reveling in the fact that I am having a weekend away from the mad git!”  
  
As the night wore on the three of them progressively drank more and more. They didn’t exactly become utterly smashed, but they were feeling pretty good. Molly had never been one to drink in much excess, except for a few times during uni. She knew that she would most likely regret it in the morning but she had decided to ‘let go’ as Mary advised, at least just this once!  
  
The trio drank and danced the night away, not surfacing from the club until the wee hours of the morning. They stumbled about, sweaty and exhausted but decided to opt out on getting a cab, instead deciding to walk in the clear, early morning air. Mary and Meena walked with their arms about Molly, holding her up. Meena tried to sing Frère Jacques, but failed miserably, and only resulted in the three of them bursting into fits of laughter.  
  
When they came to a bridge they walked over to the edge and looked down at the Seine. The fresh air was slowly helping clear their brains, not by much, but enough to let them realize that they were all famished. Molly hadn’t looked at her phone the entire night, having turned it off long ago, and she most certainly wasn’t about to look at it now.  
  
“Where does one get something to eat at four in the morning in Paris?” Meena sniveled; she had the tendency to become a weepy drunk.  
  
“Mary?” Molly pleaded, hoping that she could be the voice of reason, seeing as she was the oldest of the group. And also because Molly still did not want to look at her phone. Not until her head had cleared a bit more.  
  
Mary leaned back against the metal bars of the bridge and whipped out her mobile, squinting and flinching slightly as the glare of the screen met her eyes. She stood there, swaying against the bridge as she typed away at her phone. Meena and Molly peered down at the water, waiting for Mary to tell them something, anything.  
  
“Au Pied de Cochon!” she crowed, causing both Meena and Molly to jump. “They’re open 24 hours, seven days a week!”  
  
They got a cab, but telling the driver where to go took several minutes because Mary had apparently lost all of her French-speaking skills. Once she had figured out what to say, they settled back into the cushion and all three of them dozed sporadically.  
  
Suddenly Molly burst into giggles and couldn’t stop. Meena eyed her warily as Molly leaned forward clutching at her stomach as her giggles turned into a full guffaw.  
  
“What is so funny?” Meena questioned.  
  
“Yes, do tell,” Mary chimed in.  
  
Molly took several gulps of air, quieting her laughter. “A sudden thought just came to me. All three of us, our names start with M … we are the Three M-keteers!” She dissolved into laughter once more.  
  
It took several seconds for the hilarity to sink in then both Meena and Mary joined Molly in her mirth, much to the chagrin of the cab driver. Upon arriving at Au Pied de Cochon they each ordered a coffee and from there proceeded to order nearly every dessert on the menu.  
  
By the time that they were finished eating it was nearing six am. They were no longer quite so drunk, very happily stuffed with food, and it was now that true exhaustion was starting to slip in.  
  
“My feet are killing me! Why did I let you convince me to wear these bloody heels?” Molly moaned as they left the restaurant.  
  
“Hush now.” Meena pawed at Molly’s face. “No more talking.”  
  
Mary shook her head at the pair of them. They got another cab and returned to the hotel, upon reaching their room the three of them passed out upon the bed and sofa.  
  
\---  
  
It was not until late afternoon that Molly woke. Her head was pounding, and it felt as if a small mouse had curled up into her mouth and died. She staggered about the room, as quietly as she could, and retrieved some paracetamol from her bag. After taking the pills and downing two bottles of water she began to feel slightly better. She pulled her phone out of her bag, and not wanting to wake the others, she stumbled slightly into the bathroom.  
  
She was rather grateful that the sun wasn’t shining through the window. It looked like a cloudy, chilly day. She shivered slightly, pulling her dressing gown (i.e. Sherlock’s) more tightly about her. After letting out a massive yawn she turned on her mobile. There were twelve texts from Sherlock, oh dear, and four from an unknown number. Deciding to forgo Sherlock’s texts, she opened up the others.  
  
This is your future husband. – SD  
  
Attached to the text was a photo. Molly narrowed her eyes at the screen and opened the photo; it was of Sherlock passed out in a holding cell. He had his arm flung over his eyes, and his mouth was hanging open. Molly covered her mouth with her hand in order to muffle her laughter, tears coming to hers eyes. She then saw that there were two more photos attached to the text. She wiped away the tears as she opened the photos; one was of John in much the same position as Sherlock, and the other was of Greg Lestrade. She roared with laughter once more. Clearly these three were no longer allowed to go out drinking together.  
  
Once her laughter had died down a bit she reopened the text and realized that it was from a number that she didn’t recognize at all. SD. SD. SD. Molly chanted these two letters in her head, realizing that her fogged mind was not at its usual cognitive rate. Then it hit her, Sally Donovan! Molly fell into a fit of giggles again, knowing that Sherlock was going to be positively horrified by the fact that Sally now had these photos. Molly quickly set to typing out a reply.  
  
Thanks for those. I think they just cured my hangover. – M  
  
Had fun did you? – SD  
  
By the way, the boys are safe back at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson is currently clucking over them – SD  
  
Molly continued to giggle, knowing that she would treasure the photo of Sherlock for forever. She opened up his texts and proceeded to read them.  
  
I miss you. – SH  
  
John told me I shouldn’t text you. Geoff tried to confiscate my phone. – SH  
  
Why can’t I text my fiancée? – SH  
  
My pathologist. – SH  
  
My sexy pathologist. – SH  
  
You should wear your lab coat at home more often. Your lab coat and nothing else. – SH  
  
Molly began to wonder how drunk Sherlock had been as he texted her.  
  
My cock aches for you. – SH  
  
I want my cock inside you. – SH  
  
Molly felt her cheeks begin to burn. Definitely very drunk.  
  
I need you Molly. I neeeeeeddddddd you. – SH  
  
Why did you leave me? – SH  
  
Where did you go? – SH  
  
John won’t let me look for you. John is mean! – SH  
  
Molly leaned her forehead on her hand, amazed that Sherlock had managed to type so articulately when he was so very clearly intoxicated. This was exactly why she had turned off her phone, not having wanted to be tempted to drunk-text Sherlock. Clearly he had done enough for the both of them!  
  
After reading over the texts she closed her messages and saw that she had a voicemail from him as well. She listened to it. At first there was nothing then suddenly there was noise in the background. For a moment she thought that perhaps he had accidently called her and not realized it. Bum dialed. Nope. He had definitely been aware that he had called her.  
  
"Molly -hic- Molly Hooper! Hooper? No. Not Hooper, Hooper sounds -hic- wrong. Holmes. It should be Molly Holmes! Why aren't you -hic- Molly Holmes yet? Hoollllmmmeesss ... just like my shhnnaaammme ... you shneed to have it changed. Why haven't you changed it?"  
  
Molly covered her face with her hand then let out a laugh as she distinctively heard John's voice cut into Sherlock's, telling him that he was going to take his phone away from him now. The last thing she heard before the message was cut off was Sherlock calling out that he knew ash.  
  
First the photos, then the texts and now this message; clearly the man should not be allowed to drink. She let out a snort and made certain to save the voicemail. When he was being a particular git she was going to remind herself to listen to it for a good giggle.  
  
Taking note of the time she decided to give him a call, since Sally had told her that he was at Baker Street she could only presume that he was no longer passed out. He answered on the second ring.  
  
“’Lo?”  
  
“Hi Sherlock, how are you?”  
  
“Why are you calling? You never call!”  
  
“Sherlock, I wanted to hear your voice.” _Sober._ “Ahhh, well it is nice to hear yours.”  
  
She bit down on her lip before saying, “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Fine. Why?”  
  
“Well … the last time you had a Stag Night you ended up in prison.”  
  
He humphed. “Yes, well ahh … ithappenedagain,” he spoke the last three words in a rush and Molly let out a snort. “How are you?” he questioned, ignoring her laughter.  
  
“Mmmmppphhh, a bit hung over, but not too bad. I had a lot of fun last night, from what I can remember. Sherlock … ahhh … have you looked at your texts at all?”  
  
“No. Should I?”  
  
“Well, it’s just; you sent me some very interesting ones.” “Oh.”  
  
Molly let out a bark of laughter. “It’s quite all right. They’re rather funny.” “They weren’t supposed to be funny,” he bit out a few minutes later. “And I meant every word that I wrote. I do miss you.”  
  
“I miss you too. I’ll be back soon.”  
  
“I didn’t happen to leave you a voicemail as well, did I?”  
  
“Mmm … yeah, you did.”  
  
“Damn. I’m never drinking with John again.”  
  
Molly giggled. Then both grew silent for a time.  
  
“Do you think we should have something else besides the flowers as the table centerpieces?” he suddenly asked her.  
  
She rubbed at her left eye, counting to ten inside her head. “Sherlock for one, ONE bloody day can we not discuss the wedding?”  
  
“But Molly! These are important decisions that have to be made!”  
  
“What’s more important right now is that I haven’t had any coffee yet.”  
  
He let out a loud huff of air.  
  
“We’ll talk about it when I get home, all right?”  
  
“Fine,” he snapped.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
A beat passed.  
  
His tone softened as he said, “I love you too.”  
  
With a smile on her face Molly walked back into the bedroom, noting that Meena and Mary were waking up; both of them looking a bit worse for wear. She wanted to show Mary the photos that Sally had texted her, wondering if Sally had sent the one of John to her or not. But she decided to wait until Mary was a little bit more awake. At the moment her hair was sticking up in multiple directions, and her eyes were narrow slits.  
  
"I think you two need some water and paracetamol," Molly said to them.  
  
Meena only grunted in reply, pulling the sheet back up over her head.  
  
"Yes please," Mary moaned.  
  
Molly grabbed up two bottles of water and dug through her bag for the pills. She handed Mary a bottle and a couple of pills, then went over to Meena.  
  
"How the bloody hell are you so bright and chipper this morning?" Meena growled at her, taking the offered water and pills.  
  
Molly laughed slightly. "I didn't drink nearly as much as either one of you."  
  
Meena swallowed the pills and drank half of the bottle of water before flopping back down against the pillows and letting out a rather dramatic groan. Molly rolled her eyes, used to such antics from Sherlock. She fought back a giggle when the image of him passed out in the jail cell came to her mind. "Well, it's too late for us to go down and have breakfast here in the hotel. How about I go to the cafe down the street and get us some coffee and food?"  
  
Meena had thrown her arm across her face, covering her eyes. "Trois croissants, s'il vous plait!"  
  
Molly walked over to the sofa. "Mary? Anything in particular that you want?"  
  
"Lots of black coffee please. And anything that looks delicious. My mind is too fuzzy to be able to conjure up what I actually want to eat."  
  
"All right, I'll just get dressed and I'll be back shortly!" Molly said to them as she grabbed up some clothes.  
  
A little while later she returned back to the hotel ladened with coffee and fresh pastries. Mary and Meena were looking a little bit better, clearly the paracetamol was working. The both gladly took the offered coffee, and Meena's eyes lit up when Molly handed her the bag of croissants.  
  
"Ahhh, bon jour ma cherie!"  
  
Mary let out a snort, nearly spilling her coffee. "Meena, you really are too much!"  
  
The three of them settled down to their early afternoon breakfast. When Mary started on her second cup of coffee Molly decided to ask her the question she had been holding back.  
  
"Mary, have you looked at your phone yet?"  
  
She shook her head. “No I haven’t. Why? Should I?”  
  
Molly shrugged. “I was just wondering if you got any texts, that’s all.”  
  
Mary eyed her suspiciously then leaned over to grab her mobile. “Did Sherlock drunk text you? Are you wondering if John did the same for me?”  
  
Molly said nothing; Meena looked from one to the other as she idly chewed on her croissant.  
  
“OH BLOODY HELL!” Mary exclaimed.  
  
Molly started to laugh. “Sally sent you the photos, didn’t she?”  
  
Mary’s eyes were as wide as saucers, laughter bubbling up from her throat. “Sally took these? Oh my God, Sherlock is going to murder her!”  
  
Meena peered over her shoulder then proceeded to spew croissant crumbs as she doubled over with laughter. “Oh my God! That’s bloody brilliant!”  
  
For the next half hour the three of them couldn’t stop laughing. They would begin to calm down, then suddenly one of them would start to giggle and it would instigate the other two to start laughing all over again.  
  
By the time that they had at last exhausted their laughter it was nearing mid-afternoon and they were beginning to feel a lot better. The sun was now shining; it looked like it was turning into a beautiful day.  
  
“I think a shower for each of us and then perhaps a rendezvous at a nearby café for some real food is in order,” Mary said as she stretched, “how does that sound to both of you?”  
  
Molly and Meena both agreed. By the time they were showered and dressed and departing from the hotel the afternoon was beginning to slowly ebb away. The sun though was still shining brightly.  
  
“Would you mind if I went to a bookstore?” Molly questioned them as they settled down in chairs outside an adorable little café.  
  
“If you so desire,” Meena answered with a wave of her hand.  
  
Mary gave a contented yawn. “I’m comfortable; I think I could spend several hours here quite happily.”  
  
“Good, I’m going to go for a little walk then after I’ve had something to eat!”  
  
Half an hour later Molly was pleasantly full of quiche and a cup of strong tea. The sun was shining on the seine as she walked along it; the water appeared as if there were diamonds dancing upon the surface. Molly took a deep breath of the fresh, cool air then turned about to face the bookstore Shakespeare  & Co. She couldn't keep the smile of glee off of her face. She had dreamed about coming here for so long, having missed out on the chance to visit the shop all those years ago when she had first come to Paris. There were a few people mingling outside, looking at the books on the small wooden bookshelves that had been set up.  
  
Molly slowly approached; Meena and Mary had told her to spend as much time as she wanted, they were quite happy sitting at the cafe together. She allowed her gaze to move over the low bookshelves, taking note of familiar titles and some news ones. She then took a deep breath and stepped into the shop.  
  
For a moment she felt extremely overwhelmed by the sight that was laid out before her. The shop was positively brimming with books, to the point of overflowing. She took another deep breath and moved forward, reminding herself that she needn't rush. She stood in front of one of the shelves and ran her fingertips lovingly over the spines. She wasn't entirely certain how she was going to manage to contain and prevent herself from emptying her bank account in this place. There were so many lovely books!  
  
Suddenly her breath caught in her throat, her gaze and her fingers landing upon a book that made her heart jolt and a smile appear upon her face. It was perfect. She clasped it between her fingertips and slowly pulled it from the shelf. Her smile widened as she held it in her hands. Molly couldn't stop the giggle from bubbling out of her throat. She knew that Sherlock couldn't care less about being given a gift. She had learned that the hard way on that horrible Christmas, but she also knew deep down that he would greatly appreciate being given such a book; especially after their previous conversation. She giggled again, holding it close to her heart after noting that it had been printed in 1896 and was in fantastic condition for such an old book. It had been well taken care of by its previous owners.  
  
She continued further into the shop, moving at a near snail's pace, taking the time to look at every book. She was perusing through an antique novel, when she felt something rub up against her legs. Peering down over the book she spotted a white cat at her ankles. The cat looked up at her and let out a meow. She smiled down at the animal and leaned over to give him a pet and a scratch behind the ears. The cat began to purr.  
  
A few minutes later she was back to perusing the shelves. She felt her heart begin to quicken with excitement when she spotted an edition of Jane Eyre. She knew that she already owned four different copies, but she honestly didn't care. When she had a book that she loved, she greatly enjoyed owning multiple versions. This one was beautiful, another antique, printed in 1847. The binding was red with black fleur de lis on the cover.  
  
It would have been all too easy for her to spend a small fortune in the shop, but she was able to contain herself and managed to only buy three books; the one for Sherlock, the edition of Jane Eyre, and a 1919 edition of The Haunted Bookshop by Christopher Morley. After making her purchases Molly made her way back towards the cafe where she had left Meena and Mary.  
  
The three of them returned to their hotel room in order to decide what they wanted to do that evening. Molly started thinking about an idea she had come upon earlier, she forced herself to hide a grin as she texted Sherlock.  
  
Where are you? - Mx  
  
Baker Street. - SH  
  
With a client? - Mx  
  
No. I'm alone. Bored. - SH  
  
No experiments? - Mx  
  
Only my spore cultures. - SH  
  
I think I have a cure for your boredom. - Mx  
  
Do you now? - SH  
  
Yes. Just give me a few minutes. - Mx  
  
Ok. - SH  
  
Continuing to fight back a smile Molly set down her phone, before adopting a slightly irritated expression and beginning to rub her forehead.  
  
"Are you ok Molly?" Mary asked her, her voice tinged with concern.  
  
Molly scrunched up her nose, continuing to rub her forehead with the heel of her palm. "I've got a bit of a headache, probably still recovering from last night. I took some paracetamol but it hasn't kicked in yet."  
  
Meena came walking out of the bathroom just as Molly finished talking. She frowned, giving her friend a worried look. "Do you not want to go out then?"  
  
Molly stopped rubbing her forehead. "I'm not sure. I'm mostly worried about it getting worse, since it hasn't gone away yet. I don't want to ruin your night though, go ahead and go back out. I'll just relax for a bit and see how I feel. If it gets better I'll let you both know and then maybe meet up with you, depending on where you are."  
  
Meena's frown deepened. "This is supposed to be your weekend, and here you are not feeling well!"  
  
Molly shrugged. "Headaches happen, they just can't be helped."  
  
"Well, feel better Molly," Mary said to her as she picked up her bag and jacket. "Maybe try a nap? Or another hot shower!"  
  
Molly nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking about maybe a shower. That usually helps me a lot when I have a headache."  
  
Meena pulled on jacket before saying, "Text us when you feel better, I'm not going to text you all right? I don't want to risk waking you if you've decided to take a nap!"  
  
Molly nodded again. "I will! Hopefully it will go away soon."  
  
The two of them left, and as soon as the door closed behind them Molly let out a pleased, little chuckle. She hadn't thought that she would be able to pull off a convincing enough act, especially with Mary. Perhaps though she had seen straight through her little charade, but had decided not to say anything. She was a married woman, so it was possible that she understood what Molly was aiming for. She let out another chuckle as she sat down upon the edge of the bed and grabbed up her phone.  
  
Ready to be cured of your boredom? - Mx  
  
YES. - SH  
  
Lock the flat door. You want to be certain that you won't be disturbed. - Mx  
  
Done. - SH  
  
Are you sitting in your chair? - Mx  
  
Yes. - SH  
  
What are you wearing? - Mx  
  
Molly couldn’t help but let out a snort when Sherlock replied with a detailed listing of exactly what he was wearing. It was clear to her that the man had no concept that she was trying to sext with him. This called for drastic measures.  
  
Do you know what I'm wearing Sherlock? -Mx  
  
She got up off of the bed as she waited for his reply, walking into the bathroom, before she began to take off her clothes.  
  
I obviously do not Molly. And if you think that I can deduce your clothing, I must admit that I can only merely guess. Something that I hate to do. - SH  
  
She let out another snort as she sat down upon the edge of the tub.  
  
I'm not wearing anything. - Mx  
  
She would pay good money to see his expression at that very moment. She was certain that he had his 'buffering mode' face on.  
  
You naughty minx. - SH  
  
She smiled, giggling slightly as she typed back a reply.  
  
Would you like to see? - Mx  
  
YES. - SH  
  
Her smile widened as she tapped the Face Time button. The phone rang for several seconds before Sherlock's face appeared on the screen. He was glowering at her. She held her phone so that all he could see of her was her face.  
  
"Are you deigning to torture me?" he all but growled.  
  
She bit down on her bottom lip. "Possibly. Don't you miss me at all Sherlock?"  
  
This time he did growl. "You know I miss you! Look at what you've made me do!" The screen shifted, moving downwards until she could see his hard cock in his hand, he was pumping himself furiously. “I'm wanking in my sitting room, like some lovesick teenager."  
  
She was certain that she had never heard him use the word "wanking" before. She licked her lips, rather distracted by the sight of his cock. "Does this -- ahhh -- make you feel better?" She slowly moved her phone down over her breasts, then her stomach before allowing it to hover directly over her curls. She spread her legs and with her one free hand she slipped her fingers between her wet folds. She was positively soaked as she began to stroke her clit. She smiled again when she heard Sherlock's sharp intake of breath.  
  
"Fuck! Molly!" he gasped out.  
  
She tilted her phone ever so slightly so that she could see him continuing to pump his cock while he could still see her, now swirling her fingertip around and over her clit. He groaned, picking up the pace of his hand.  
  
"That's it Sherlock, make yourself come! Just imagine that it's me, touching you like that, moving my hand up and down your aching cock, massaging your bollocks. Oh God! That's what I'm doing! Imagining that your finger is on my clit, stroking me ... Mmmm fuck! That feels so incredible! How does my hand feel on your cock Sherlock?"  
  
"Damnit!" he hissed out. "Your hand feels so fucking wonderful on me!"  
  
They continued to work each other up into a frenzy until Molly cried out his name, and Sherlock groaned out hers.  
  
“Bloody hell Molly.”  
  
She gave a little giggle, reaching out to grab a couple of tissues from the nearby box to wipe her fingers clean.  
  
“COME. HOME.”  
  
She smiled at him and shook her head before saying, “Not yet.”  
  
He grumbled and threw himself back into his chair, not bothering to clean himself up. “You are cruel.”  
  
“Perhaps so. But you’re no better.”  
  
He hmphed.  
  
“I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“I’m counting down the hours.”  
  
“Why does that not surprise me?”  
  
He let out a sniff.  
  
“I’m going to sound like a broken record here, Sherlock, but now you have an idea of what I go through when you’re away for a case. You can shut off your desires, forcing your mind to focus on the case and only the case, while I cannot. I’m always left behind worrying about you and wanting you, and missing you. Most nights I just lie in bed touching myself, thinking about you. I used to own a dildo; I know that you’re aware of this fact. I threw it away though … want to know why?”  
  
His eyes were widened with curiosity.  
  
“It didn’t satisfy me. It was a poor imitation of what I had become used to. I can only get off by touching my clit now, when you’re not home. Put that in your Mind Palace … an image of me lying in our bed, the covers thrown back, my legs spread and my finger stroking me. That’s what I do every night, and sometimes during the day when you’re not there.”  
  
He breathed in loudly before exhaling. “What you said is not entirely true. I can’t shut off my desire for you, it’s always there in the back of my mind; I always want you Molly. Even when I’m working on a case that’s a 9 or a 10, I still want you, I still need you. I’ve had to duck into a toilet every now and then to _deal_ with a sudden erection.”  
  
Molly let out a giggle. “Have you now?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Mmm … I kind of like knowing that.”  
  
He gave her a smug smirk.  
  
“How’s Toby?” she enquired.  
  
“Fine. The beast has taken it upon himself to sleep on the bed with me.”  
  
Molly’s eyes widened. “Has he? And you’re allowing it?”  
  
“He meowed and scratched at the door incessantly until I let him in.”  
  
Molly chuckled then gazed out the window, noting that it was beginning to grow dark. “It’s getting late. I should get cleaned up and go meet the girls.”  
  
“Oh. They’re not there?”  
  
She cast upon him a weary look. “No Sherlock. Do you honestly think that I’d do something like _this_ with them in the other room?”  
  
He shrugged. “Enjoy your night then. I shall be here, wallowing away in my boredom.”  
  
“Oh stop it. You’ll find something to do.”  
  
He sighed. “Perhaps so.”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
He smiled. “I love you too.”  
  
Molly ended the call and turned on the water in the shower. A short while later she was dressed and texted Meena to see where they were.  
  
So happy to know you’re feeling better. We were thinking about going to Moulin Rouge, are you interested? – Mn  
  
Absolutely! I’ll get a cab and meet you there. – Mx  
  
The three of them greatly enjoyed their night of champagne, dinner, and Can Can.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning they managed to wake a bit earlier than they had on the previous day. The sun was shining brightly and it was slightly warmer in temperature so they decided to spend as much of it out of doors as they could.  
  
“A visit to the Eiffel Tower is a must for today!” Meena announced, and the other two quickly agreed.  
  
“I think we should have dinner there tonight, at the Le Jules Verne, the sunset must look beautiful from there,” Mary said, a wistful look coming to her eyes.  
  
“Oh yes please! Let’s do that, it sounds like a fantastic way to spend our last evening in Paris,” Molly agreed with a wide smile.  
  
“How about a bit of shopping too? We need to get the bride a few naughty things for the wedding night!” Meena cackled.  
  
Molly blushed deeply. “Honestly Meena …”  
  
“Oh come on, shopping for negligee’s can be fun! I looked up a few places and I think that Agent Provocateur is our best bet,” Meena explained as she grabbed up her bag.  
  
“But don’t we have that in London?”  
  
“Yes. But there’s something about going to the shop in France that makes it sexier, don’t you think?”  
  
Mary laughed. “Do you think they will have anything that will help hide a post-baby body? Can’t say that I’ve ever gone in there before.”  
  
Meena smiled. “Oh most certainly, they actually have some lovely things. They do of course carry a lot of racy items, but there are some that are rather pretty as well.”  
  
With a sigh, and a faint blush on her cheeks, Molly followed them out of their hotel room. A short time later the three of them were giggling as they looked over the items that were for sale in the shop.  
  
“I think you should buy something to wear beneath your wedding dress, and something a bit naughtier to change into,” Meena said to her with a wink as they made their way towards the bridal area.  
  
Molly was pleased to find that they did in fact carry some very pretty lingerie. She managed to find a set of matching bra and knickers to wear beneath her dress. Meena though was determined to get her to buy something naughty.  
  
“What about this?” Meena asked her, holding up a negligee that had barely any coverage.  
  
“Good Lord Meena! I’ve never worn anything so risqué in my life!”  
  
“All the more reason to do it. Help me Mary; convince her that she needs to buy this. There’s obviously something about it that you like Molly, you won’t stop staring at it.”  
  
Molly’s blush deepened, not exactly wanting to reveal the reason as to why she thought it was so perfect. “I’ll try it.”  
  
Once it was on her body she knew that she had to get it. It really was ideal. She could just imagine Sherlock’s face when he saw her wearing it. She felt her heart flutter at the thought, and it made her wish that the wedding was all that much sooner.  
  
Meena ended up finding a few things for herself, as did Mary. All in all it was a most successful shopping trip, albeit a slightly embarrassing one. Truth be told Molly rather despised shopping for under things; she always felt so awkward doing so. But the women in the shop had been very sweet, and helpful.  
  
When Molly returned from trying on the items Meena took them from her. “Let me buy these for you … my treat! Think of it as my wedding gift.” Meena gave her a saucy wink.  
  
Molly was certain she had never blushed so much in such a short space of time. Mary put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a tender squeeze. “Shall we do something you want next?” she enquired.  
  
Molly answered her with a nod. Once they had paid, they left the shop and began to walk down the street.  
  
“Where to next?” Mary asked.  
  
“The Vanves Flea Market,” Molly answered firmly.  
  
Meena gave a small sniff. “Fine.”  
  
They made their way towards the Porte de Vanves. In spite of the gorgeous weather it appeared that the majority of the bargain hunters had already gleaned their way through the many stalls. Meena quickly became enthralled; she really was secretly an antiques lover. Mary stayed by Molly’s side as they slowly browsed. Molly came to a pause when they reached a table laden with jewelry. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a pair of vintage cufflinks.  
  
Mary gave her a nudge with her elbow. “Buy them. I’ll keep them hidden away at my flat; we both know how Sherlock likes to pry. You can give me the lingerie as well.”  
  
Molly smiled and reached forward to grab them up. The seller gave her a story about the cufflinks, in very broken English. Molly wasn’t entirely certain how much of it was true, but she listened to him kindly as he wrapped up her purchase.  
  
She tucked the cufflinks into the bag from Agent Provocateur, before they made their way to search out Meena. When they found her she was bargaining with an elderly gentleman. In the end the seller refused to drop down to the price she desired, and Molly managed to convince her that the candlesticks really didn’t match the décor of her flat.  
  
“You didn’t really want those, did you? You just wanted to rile him up,” Molly said to her with a slight glare.  
  
Meena chuckled. “Of course! The old man looked bored! I wanted to liven up his day a little!”  
  
Mary let out a snort. “I think he was more interested in staring at your breasts in that top.”  
  
Meena grimaced slightly. “Was he? I didn’t notice. Quite glad I didn’t. Why do I always seem to attract unwanted attention? I don’t do anything on purpose! Why isn’t your wedding sooner Molly? I want to meet Sherrinford, he seems like he is a decent bloke.”  
  
Molly took her hand. “He is. I think you two will go well together. And I know, I was thinking the same thing earlier, wishing that my wedding was sooner, not still a little less than two months away.”  
  
Mary smiled. “It will come soon enough. I had felt the same way then all of a sudden it was my wedding day, and then it was all over! Don’t wish it sooner, it goes by so quickly.”  
  
Molly gave her an answering smile then her eyes widened when she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. “Oh my God, is that … Julien?!”  
  
Meena’s mouth dropped open as she followed Molly’s gaze. “It is! It’s definitely him! JULIEN!”  
  
The young man they had been staring at turned towards them at the sound of his name being called out. He spotted them and smiled widely before moving forwards.  
  
“Molly? Meena? Fancy running into the two of you here! How are you both?” He gave them each a hug.  
  
“We are both very well.” Meena answered.  
  
“And you’re engaged I see!” Julien said as he took up Molly’s hand, the diamond glistening in the sunlight. “So what are you two doing in Paris?”  
  
“We decided to turn Molly’s Hen Night into a Hen Weekend!” Meena explained to him.  
  
Molly smiled and introduced Mary. The four of them quickly settled in to comfortable chatter. That was the way it was with Julien; you were always instantly at ease in his presence and he made you feel like you had known him for years.  
  
After a short while Molly told him that they were planning to go to the Eiffel Tower that evening and have dinner there. She asked him to join them. He gladly accepted the invitation. They parted ways after settling on a time and the three of them returned to their hotel to freshen up for their evening out.  
  
By the time they were making their way to the Eiffel Tower the sun was reaching the horizon. There was still though a perfect amount of light to view the beautiful structure. Molly was certain that she was going to end up with a crick in her a neck from leaning her head back in order to peer upwards. She was also certain that no matter how many times she may return to this beautiful city, the sight of the tower would never cease to take her breath away.  
  
Julien arrived a few minutes later and they got into a lift and went to the second floor. Molly’s breath hitched in her throat. The view was magnificent. Julien smiled at her, his honey-brown locks falling across his forehead as a light wind blew over them.  
  
“I’ve been living in Paris for the passed three years,” he told her, “and every time that I come up here, I am overcome with a sense of awe.”  
  
“Hey guys!” Meena called out from behind them, “Smile!”  
  
Molly and Julien turned around. He pulled Molly into his embrace and the pair of them smiled as Meena snapped a photo.  
  
“Would it be terribly silly of me to buy Emily a teddy bear with an Eiffel Tower on its t-shirt?” Mary asked suddenly.  
  
Molly smiled as she walked over to where Mary was standing in front of one of the shops. “No. Not at all. She’s a stuffed animal fiend! Too bad they don’t sell those t-shirts that say, ‘my fiancée went to Paris and all I got was a lousy t-shirt!’”  
  
Mary snorted with laughter.  
  
“Ahh yes, your fiancée, who is the lucky bloke? No one I know, I suppose?” Julien enquired.  
  
“Well … it’s possible that you’ve heard of him. His name is Sherlock Holmes.” Molly answered.  
  
“Sherlock Holmes? The detective that wears that silly hat?” Julien’s eyebrows rose.  
  
Meena giggled as she tucked her phone away into her bag and followed Mary into the shop. Molly’s cheeks blushed faintly.  
  
“Erm … yeah. That’s the one!”  
  
“Huh. I thought he had a partner, John Watson?”  
  
Molly shook her head. “Oh no. He’s just his partner in the detective work; John is married to Mary.”  
  
“Oh! Bloody papers, can’t ever get anything right! So how is it that you know him, then?”  
  
Molly walked back over to the lookout, leaning against the metal bar. “Sherlock and I have known each other for six, nearly seven years. He helps Scotland Yard with solving cases, murders mostly, but I’m sure you’ve read all about that. I work at St. Bart’s hospital in the morgue and ever since Sherlock has been working with Scotland Yard, he’s been working with me. I usually end up performing the autopsies on the bodies brought in from his murder cases. We’ve spent a lot of time together over the years, working together really. It’s only been recent that the dynamics of our relationship have changed.”  
  
Julien eyed her for a moment. “Didn’t he fake his death?”  
  
Molly’s blush, which had mostly faded, now deepened. “Yeah, he did do that. And I, uhh, kind of helped him with it.”  
  
Julien’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell, Molly. It sounds like this guy owes you a lot.”  
  
She couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose you could say that he does. I’m really happy Julien, more than I ever thought I could be.”  
  
He smiled down at her before pulling her into another hug. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. We need to stay in touch from now on! It’s terrible how easily we stopped communicating with each other!”  
  
Molly returned his hug. “Most definitely! Whenever you come to London we’ll have to meet up! I’ll warn you right now though; Sherlock isn’t the most sociable of human beings. You’ll probably hate him when you first meet him. But he really is wonderful, once you get to know him and understand him.”  
  
Julien pressed a kiss to her temple. “You love him, so I have no choice but to love him as well. You know how I am.”  
  
Molly smiled. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”  
  
He grimaced slightly. “Sadly, no. I just ended a three-year relationship. Should have ended it much sooner, but ahh well. I’m going to fester and stew in my singleness for a little while now. Unless of course someone attractive happens to waltz into my life, you know me; I can’t pass up a pretty face.”  
  
Molly let out a laugh, remembering all too well how this had been very true back in their uni days. A few minutes later Mary and Meena re-joined them and they made their way to the restaurant.  
  
The evening was filled with laughter and reminiscing, a glorious sunset over the city, and a deluge of wine and delicious food. When the bill arrived Julien waved away their offers to split it.  
  
He invited them over to his flat for after-dinner drinks. His place was sleekly decorated, a far cry from the disaster that his flat used to be.  
  
“Thank you for not having any used condoms strewn about,” Meena said to him as she sat down upon his black leather sofa.  
  
Mary scrunched up her nose, and Molly covered her face with her palm. Julien had the decency to blush slightly.  
  
“My days of marathon sex are long over. I’ve got a bit of a bad back now, probably thanks to all that,” he said as he handed each of them a glass of wine. “Surely you still chase after the boys as strongly as you did back in uni. I see no ring on your finger.”  
  
Meena’s cheeks darkened. “I’ve actually give up on men. Bloody useless.”  
  
Julien smirked as he sat down across from them. “They’re all gits! The whole lot!”  
  
They didn’t leave his flat until the wee hours of the morning; thankfully they didn’t have to check out of the hotel very early. When they returned to their room they decided to pack up their things so that they could sleep in as much as possible. By the time they were finished they were ready to collapse. It was a matter of minutes before the three of them were fast asleep.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning revealed itself to be a rather gloomy day. They ate breakfast downstairs and by the time they exited the hotel and got into a cab it was drizzling slightly. When they reached the station it had turned into a deluge. Molly took out her phone, once they were safely inside, and texted Sherlock.  
  
About to get on the train, see you soon. Love you. - Mx  
  
You don't have to go in to work tomorrow. - SH  
  
What? Why? I didn't take tomorrow off. - Mx  
  
Spoke with Stamford. - SH  
  
The fridge is fully stocked. - SH  
  
You went shopping? - Mx  
  
Yes. John accompanied me. - SH  
  
Why did you buy food? You never buy food. - Mx  
  
I have no intention of us leaving the flat for the next 24 - hopefully 48 - hours. I thought you'd appreciate having food readily available to eat. - SH  
  
Molly couldn't stop a smile from coming to her face. It was incredible how thoughtful he had managed to become over the progression of their relationship.  
  
Thank you. See you soon. I love you. - Mx  
  
I love you too. - SH  
  
During the entire train ride back to London she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Mary shared with her a knowing look; she too was anxiously waiting for the moment when she would be seeing her husband and daughter.  
  
By the time they reached London it was nearing early afternoon. It was raining there as well, it being rather damp and chilly out. But the weather didn't put a damper on Molly's mood. She was far too excited about seeing Sherlock again to allow the lack of sunshine to get to her.  
  
The three of them parted ways at the train station. They hugged and said to each other how much fun they had. Molly thanked them both, telling them that it was one of the best weekends she had ever experienced. Once she was in a cab Molly texted Sherlock.  
  
On my way to Baker Street. - Mx  
  
Good. I'm waiting. - SH  
  
She leaned back into the seat cushion and closed her eyes. She had enjoyed her time away in Paris, but she had also missed Sherlock a lot. It felt strange to not be near him. She also had definitely not slept as well as she usually did. She held back a giggle when she thought to herself that she probably was not going to be getting much sleep for some time.  
  
When she arrived a short while later outside Baker Street she quickly paid and got out, anxious to get inside and be in Sherlock's embrace. She let herself in, and hurried up the stairs, hoping that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't pop out to say hello (she didn't). As Molly reached the landing the door to the flat opened and Sherlock was there, standing, waiting for her. She barely had a moment to release her bag from her hold when he pulled her into his arms, slamming the door shut behind them.  
  
She had expected him to begin removing her clothes straight away, desperate to make love to her. But instead he was only holding her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck. She held on to him tightly, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled like home.  
  
Suddenly she felt his lips brush against her skin, before he murmured to her, "God Molly, I've missed you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> :)
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> Gah, writing about and researching all of these places in Paris really makes me want to go there even more! *sigh*
> 
> Any idea as to what the book is that Molly bought for Sherlock? It will be revealed in the next chapter! ;)
> 
> Oh … and … hehe … the naughty little negligee will also be revealed in a later chapter. They really do have some interesting items! O_O 
> 
> Let me know what you all think! I really do love reading each and every review that I get :)


	30. I've Missed You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, it's confession time. I cannot believe that this little idea that came into my mind has become a 30 chapter fic. I had no intensions of it being this long, originally I had it mapped out for only 17 chapters, and now I honestly have no idea when I will exactly end it! I still have many more ideas so this thing may end up being 50 chapters. We shall see!
> 
> And wooo boy this chapter is quite smut heavy! But does anyone honestly really mind? :-P
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\---

“God Molly, I’ve missed you,” Sherlock murmured against her skin. “"I think I understand now what you told me, about spending time apart, how it can be important. I thought I knew how much you meant to me, how important your constant presence is to me, but now, after these four days, I've come to realize that you ..." He picked up his head, so that their eyes could meet. "You are my life source Molly Hooper. I can't survive without you."  
  
Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. "I can't survive without you either, Sherlock."  
  
And that was when he kissed her. He pressed her up against the door, his body close to hers, his hands cradling her face. Molly was holding onto his hips, feeling his arousal against her belly. Her body was aching for him, she couldn’t wait any longer.  
  
“Bend me over the sofa Sherlock, fuck me from behind!” she gasped out breathlessly.  
  
He pulled away, staring down at her with slightly widened eyes. She smiled up at him, moving her arms until they were draped over his shoulders. “Didn’t think I’d realize how much you enjoy taking me like that, did you?” She leaned closer to him, brushing her lips against his ever so slightly. “I rather like it as well.”  
  
With a low growl he scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the sofa. There was a frantic rush for a removal of clothing, and once they were both naked Sherlock pulled her to him for another breath-taking kiss. He then slowly turned her about, pressing his chest up against her back. He snaked an arm around her torso, allowing his hand to drift downwards, his fingertips trailing teasingly over her glistening curls. She could feel his erection practically throbbing against her bum.  
  
“Bend over,” he rumbled in a silky tone, sending a rush of heat directly to her core.  
  
She did as he asked, making certain to keep her bum pressed up against him. Sherlock groaned at the sensation then shifted his body slightly so that he could glide his cock into her wet, welcoming heat.  
  
“Oh God!” she whimpered as he filled her, his bollocks nestling against the curves of her arse. “Fuck me Sherlock, please! Good and hard!”  
  
He didn’t need to be told twice. His thrusts were frantic and deep, he made certain to give her his full length every time. Her breasts shook as he entered her. With a slight change of angle, he settled the majority of his weight onto his knees, pressing them into the side of the sofa so that he was able to reach up and cup her breasts in his hands. He massaged her tender nipples as he continued to fuck her.  
  
Molly was moaning wildly, clutching at the sofa cushions. When she came, a few minutes later, her entire body shook. Sherlock released her breasts and dropped his hands down to the tops of her thighs, as her body continued to convulse. She brought one of her hands up and held tightly onto his, as he slowed his thrusts to a near stand-still.  
  
“Don’t stop,” she whispered breathlessly to him. “Not yet. Keep going.”  
  
He could feel her inner walls still clenching him. He slipped his arm around her waist, holding her close up against him as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, beginning to pick up the pace of his thrusts once more. “Yes!”  
  
He groaned into her neck. “Molly!” he whispered her name again as he came, their hands still clasped together.  
  
They collapsed side by side onto the sofa, both of their bodies slick with sweat, the pair of them panting heavily. He looped one arm about her waist, and then tucked a leg behind hers. He wasn’t about to let her go anywhere.  
  
They had been lying side by side for several minutes now, silently gazing at each other. Molly was currently running her fingertips along the curves of his cheeks.  
  
"Sherlock ..." she said to him.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Did you sleep at all while I was gone?"  
  
He exhaled slowly, before pulling her closer up against him. "Mmm ... no. I can't seem to sleep when I'm not with you." He leaned his forehead up against her clavicle, rubbing his nose against her skin.  
  
Molly moved her arms until they were wrapped tightly about his shoulders. "No wonder you look exhausted. I suppose the only sleep you got was overnight in jail ... hmm?"  
  
She felt him grow tense; she then let out a squeak when he bit down on her clavicle. She gave the back of his head a good swat. He chuckled, dragging his tongue across the now red, slightly indented mark.  
  
"Not nice Sherlock!"  
  
He chuckled again and began to make his way upwards, nipping and kissing her skin until he reached her lips and kissed her deeply. She held him close to her, pressing her mouth to his with fervor. When they parted he stared down at her with a slightly smug smile. She quickly adjusted her expression to mimic his.  
  
"I must admit, I don't sleep well when we are apart either," she told him.  
  
His smile grew in smugness. "Must be because I know how to _exhaust_ you so well!"  
  
Molly raised an eyebrow. "Ohhhh ... and I don't?" she asked him, as her hand dropped downwards to cup his bum before giving him a slight pinch.  
  
He jumped, before dropping his head back down to suck a dark mark upon her throat. "You do ... extensively."  
  
She giggled, giving his bum another pinch.  
  
"Stop it!" he growled into her skin.  
  
"Mmmm ... nope!" She popped the ‘p,’ giggling again as she gave him another slightly, harder pinch.  
  
Sherlock let out another growl before sitting up in one swift, rapid motion. Molly continued to giggle, then gasped as he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.  
  
"Sherlock!" she shrieked, hitting his back with her clenched fists.  
  
He gave her bottom a resounding smack, before tossing her onto the bed. Before she had a chance to react he had covered her body with his own and was kissing her deeply once more.  
  
She managed to maneuver him onto his back, and before he could say or do anything she had straddled his hips and taken his cock in her hand. She pumped him until he grew hard, which didn’t take very long at all, then allowed his length to slip into her. She threw her head back, her mouth parted as she rocked her hips slightly.  
  
Her skin was still faintly flushed from their previous coupling, and it only deepened in colour as she began to truly ride him. Sherlock watched mesmerized at the sight of her breasts swaying and bouncing from her movements.  
  
“Love your breasts, Molly. Love them,” he panted out.  
  
She opened her eyes and stared down at him before tilting her body forward slightly and taking his hands from where they had been on her hips and bringing them up to her chest. He cupped the soft flesh, giving her nipples a tweak with his finger tips. She gave a soft cry and picked up the pace. Sherlock began to rock his hips up to meet hers and within minutes they were moaning each other’s name.  
  
Molly collapsed onto his chest. He cradled her against his body, making sure to keep his softening cock inside of her. She mewled quietly, as he shifted his hips, a faint shudder running through her body. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, neither one of them bothering to cover their naked bodies with a sheet as they drifted off to sleep.  
  
The next morning she woke to Sherlock's body molded against the back of hers. She could feel his breath on her neck; the sensation making her hair stand pleasantly on end. She sighed blissfully. His arm that was draped over her hip and stomach began to move, his legs shifting as well. She felt him breathe out against her then felt his lips placing feather-light kisses upon her skin.  
  
"Sooo ... did I prove it to you?" he asked her his voice thick with sleep. He began suckling on a freckle.  
  
She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. "Mmm ... prove what?" she replied, even though she knew exactly what he was referring to.  
  
He bit down on her freckle, before dragging his tongue across it. "That I missed you." he murmured, before he gave her body a gentle tug until she moved onto her back.  
  
She opened her eyes and their gaze met. Her smile widened. "Most definitely! More than once!"  
  
He adopted a satisfied expression, then leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. Molly kissed him back, and he moved his body until he was entirely covering her own. She sighed against him as the kiss grew in passion. He broke away from her lips only to trail his mouth down the base of her throat.  
  
She let out a soft gasp. "Did I prove it to you as well?"  
  
He dragged his tongue across both of her clavicles before answering, "Hmm? What were you trying to prove?"  
  
"That spending some time apart can be a good thing."  
  
He lifted up his head, their eyes meeting. “I thought I already told you that I did. But ahhh … If I say yes once more, will you go away again?"  
  
She laughed softly, running her hand through his mussed up curls. "Possibly."  
  
He pouted then dropped his head down in-between her breasts, pressing his face against her skin. "In that case ... NO," he grumbled.  
  
Molly sighed, carding both her hands through his hair before giving him a gentle tug upwards. "You really do have separation anxiety, don't you?"  
  
He nuzzled her cheek with his nose before answering, "If that's what you want to call my not enjoying being apart from you ... then yes."  
  
She moved her hand to cup his cheek so that she could turn his head enough to press their lips together. "Does this mean you're going to start taking me with you whenever you have to go away for a case?"  
  
Sherlock gave her bottom lip a tender nibble. "That is very likely. Especially since John wants to leave London less and less since the birth of his offspring."  
  
Molly took a hold of both sides of his face and lifted him up until he was hovering directly above her. "Let me make one thing very clear Sherlock. If and when we have a child, you will not ever refer to our son or daughter as our 'offspring.'"  
  
"Mmm ... Not Good?" he enquired.  
  
"Not Good at all."  
  
"Spawn?"  
  
"Sherlock!"  
  
He sighed. "Fine."  
  
"You will call them by their names, or refer to them as your son and daughter. Honestly! Is that so difficult?"  
  
He humphed. "No!"  
  
She giggled slightly. "You really are a ridiculous man."  
  
"And yet you still want to marry me and have children with me!"  
  
She looped her arms over his back, smiling widely as she said, "Yes, I do!"  
  
They kissed for a time, reveling in the warmth of their bodies pressed together. He rolled over onto his side, tucking her body close up against his before lifting her leg over his hip. A low whimper escaped Molly's throat as Sherlock nestled his cock directly between the apex of her legs. She gasped against his lips as he nudged at her clit with the head. They then sighed in unison as he slid his hardened-length into her eager body.  
  
He began to make love to her slowly, but soon his thrusts grew desperate, deeper. He grabbed onto her buttocks to hold her closer up against him. Molly gasped and moaned loudly as he continued to thrust into her, her body on fire with pleasure. She dropped he hand down between their joined bodies and gave her clit a few strokes with her fingertip. That was her undoing. She came with a loud cry of his name, her fingernails of her other hand digging into his back as he continued to enter her as she rode out her orgasm, only to join her in the abyss a few thrusts later.  
  
He clung to her, breathing noisily into the curve of her neck. When their breath slowed to a more normal pace they shared a tender kiss.  
  
"All right Molly. You did prove it."  
  
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Did I now?"  
  
"Yes. The sex has been fantastic since you came back!"  
  
She chuckled loudly before pulling him to her for another kiss. "Mmm ... speaking of me being away, I bought you something."  
  
He began to grumble, as she had expected him to do.  
  
"Oh stop! You'll love it!" She gave him a playful little shove and slipped out from beneath the sheets. She left the bedroom, giving no thought to the fact that she was naked, padding out into the hall and to where she had dropped her suitcase. She unzipped it and searched through until she found the desired item. She then returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Sherlock was sat, leaning against the headboard. He hadn't bothered to pull the sheet up to cover himself. His eyes were trailing over her body as she walked over to the bed. She gave him a cheeky smirk, then climbed onto the bed and held out the gift to him. He eyed it for but a moment.  
  
"A book," he stated, instantly deducing it because of the shape and size. "Yes, but not just any book."  
  
She kneeled in front of him and he took it from her and unwrapped it. His eyes widened in delight.  
  
“ _The ABC and XYZ of Bee Culture,_ " he murmured as he looked over the cover, he then lifted his gaze to her. "Molly, this is brilliant!"  
  
She smiled widely. "I knew you'd like it! I got so excited when I came across it."  
  
His expression mirrored hers as he looked back down at the book and opened it and began to turn the pages. "You remembered me talking about my fascination with bees."  
  
"Of course! It was when I was doing the autopsy on Mrs. Lan. It appeared that she had died of anaphylactic shock, when in fact she had been poisoned. You of course figured that out within moments, but then you continued to talk about bees. It was interesting to hear, I never knew that there was so much to learn about a bee."  
  
Suddenly the book fell to the mattress. Before Molly could say another word, Sherlock had grabbed her about the waist and had pulled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply. When they parted for breath he leaned his forehead against hers. “You know me so well, it's almost frightening."  
  
She laughed softly. "Now you are aware of how it feels when you deduce someone. It can be a rather terrifying experience, having so many things exposed about yourself."  
  
His expression fell slightly.  
  
"It can also be quite liberating," she said quickly.  
  
He sighed then smiled slightly when she gave his bottom lip a nibble. "Thank you for the book."  
  
"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy it, the information might be rather outdated, but you may learn something from it!"  
  
He hummed against her lips as he gave her another kiss. “I’ll read it … later.” He reached out blindly for the book, grabbing it and placing it on the nightstand before he nudged her down onto her back. “Right now the only thing I want to study is … _you_.” He kissed her soundly, pressing the length of his body against hers, dragging the pads of his fingertips across her skin.  
  
Molly mewled softly as he nudged her legs apart, his hard length hot against her stomach. He began to kiss, and suckle his way down her neck. When he reached her breasts he made certain to give each equal attention. Her nipples were red and puckered by the time he was satisfied. He continued downwards, stopping to suck a mark nearby her navel, nipping at the skin there with his teeth.  
  
When he reached her curls, he stopped and breathed in deeply, nuzzling her with his nose. “God Molly,” he panted out, “I love the way you smell.”  
  
Before she could conjure up any sort of reply, he parted her folds with his thumbs and delved in. She had one hand clutching the bed sheets and the other buried in his hair as he sucked and lapped at her. He had three of his fingers inside of her, curved slightly to brush up against that tender spot as he mouthed at her clit.  
  
Molly was a panting, moaning mess. Her hips rocked with his ministrations, her bum lifting off of the bed. When her thighs began to shudder, Sherlock picked up the speed of his tongue and his fingers. She screamed out his name, pressing herself against his mouth as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. She fell back down to the bed, feeling delightfully boneless. Ever so slowly Sherlock slipped his fingers out of her, sucking them clean as he peered up at her.  
  
Their eyes met, her gaze was a heavy-lidded one. He pressed a kiss directly above her pubic mound before pulling himself upwards, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. In spite of being rather out of breath Molly grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him to her for a kiss. Their tongues danced together.  
  
“Allow me to return the favour,” she murmured against his lips.  
  
She dropped her hand down to his cock; he was practically pulsing around her fingers. He groaned as he dropped down onto his back, and she slowly pumped him with her hand. She pressed a kiss to his jaw line before sliding down the bed until she was at eye-level with his cock.  
  
She brushed the tip of her nose down his length, it twitching at the sensation. She laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the base of him, giving his bollocks a slight squeeze. Sherlock groaned once more. She darted out her tongue, pressing it out flat against him and dragging it upwards to the tip where his pre-cum had begun to bead. She took the head in between her lips, flicking her tongue across the very tip of him as she suckled it. He had his hands on her shoulders, his fingertips digging into her skin as she took more of him into her mouth.  
  
His hips rose up off the bed ever so slightly. “Molly. Please,” he panted out. “I don’t want to come like this. I want to be inside of you.”  
  
She released him from between her lips with a soft pop, pressing a kiss onto his right hip before sitting up. With a shaky breath, Sherlock pulled himself up to a seated position.  
  
“Come here.” He beckoned.  
  
She moved forward and he grabbed her about the waist, pulling her onto his lap. He gave her legs a tug, letting her know that he wanted them around his hips. She smiled at him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders. With a satisfied groan from the pair of them, she sank down onto his length. She rocked her body against his, moaning into his mouth as he kissed her deeply. He gave a few slight thrusts then shifted his body, moving until he was on his knees so that he could thrust into her more easily. He moved his hands down to cup her bum, picking up speed.  
  
“Yes, Sherlock!” she panted to him, tilting her head so that she could bury her face in the curve of his neck. She held on to him tightly, the hard points of her nipples pressed up against his chest. “Kiss me,” she whimpered, leaning back slightly, as she felt the crest of her orgasm approaching once more.  
  
He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily as he continued to thrust up into her, not once slowing his pace. She moaned into his mouth as their bodies continued to rock together. They parted for breath and she pressed her nose against the side of his before crying out. He only gave several more thrusts before joining her.  
  
She clung to him, shivering slightly. He nuzzled her cheek before placing a tender kiss there. Her body continued to shake.  
  
“You’re cold.” He looked at her, noting the array of faint bumps that had risen upon her skin. She nodded and he gently turned their bodies so that he could lay them both down. He slid himself out of her, but kept her close to him as he grabbed up the duvet and pulled it over them. She shivered again before burying her face in his chest. Sherlock put his arm about her, rubbing his hand up and down her back.  
  
“Why are you so cold?” he asked her.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
He continued to rub his hand up and down her back, sometimes slipping it down to her bum. She giggled when he did this, before giving one of his nipples a slight tweak with her fingers.  
  
“Warmer now?” He had noted that she was no longer shaking.  
  
She nodded her head. “Mmm. Yeah. Much better.”  
  
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Breakfast?”  
  
“Mmmm, but doesn’t that require leaving the bed?”  
  
He sighed into her neck. “Yes. Sadly it does.” Suddenly he lifted up his head and sniffed the air.  
  
She peered up at him. “What are you doing? You look like a dog when you do that.”  
  
He glared down at her. “I smell Mrs. Hudson’s scones.”  
  
Molly raised her eyebrows. “Do you? I don’t smell anything.”  
  
Sherlock shifted away from her and sat up, sliding out from beneath the covers.  
  
“Put a dressing gown on! For God’s sakes! Mrs. Hudson is old; she doesn’t need that sort of fright!”  
  
He let out a snort, but did as she requested, pulling it tightly about his body as he opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Molly watched him disappear from view, quietly awaiting his return. He did so a few minutes later, carrying a tray laden with tea, scones, and two bowls of cut, fresh fruit. She sat up, letting the duvet fall away from her as Sherlock set the tray down onto the bed.  
  
Molly smiled. “Mrs. Hudson is an absolute dear!”  
  
“Hmmm … not my housekeeper my arse,” he mumbled as he planted a kiss upon Molly’s neck. She smiled and turned her head so that she could press her lips to his.  
  
They slowly drank their tea, and managed to devour every last scone and each bit of fruit. Once everything was finished Sherlock moved the tray down onto the floor and stretched himself out, pulling Molly close up against him.  
  
“So what exactly did you do on your Stag Night?” she asked him, tracing the outline of his nose with her fingertip. He moved to nip at it with his teeth but she was too quick for him. She chuckled, pulling her hand back.  
  
He exhaled slowly. “Each pub that we went to was erm-themed,” he turned his body so that his stomach was pressed against her hip, allowing him to nibble at her ear.  
  
“Themed?” Molly questioned, her breath hitching in her throat slightly as he moved his mouth down to her neck, suckling a dark mark there.  
  
“Mmm … themed to go along with each of the big cases I’ve solved.” He moved his mouth down to her shoulder.  
  
“Ego,” she hissed out.  
  
He grumbled against her skin. “They may have helped me Molly, but neither Lestrade nor John actually deciphered any of these cases. _I_ did.” He shifted until he was hovering over her, his mouth still trailing kisses along her shoulder.  
  
She sighed. “Moving on. What were these pubs that he brought you to?” He nibbled on the top of her breast. “ _Cellar Door_ was the first one.”  
  
“ _Cellar Door_?” Her breath hitched again as he placed a smacking kiss directly between her breasts.  
  
“Yes. The name doesn’t hold any clues, so don’t bother trying to find any. It was the décor of the place. Although, the hue was a bit off; red, not pink.”  
  
“Ahhhh … ‘ _A Study in Pink_.’”  
  
“Mmm …” He nuzzled her left breast with his nose, his breath tickling over her nipple, causing it to pebble.  
  
“And the next one?” she gasped out, as he ghosted his lips over the tender skin.  
  
He chuckled, before taking the nipple between his teeth and giving it a bite. She yelped slightly, her back arching. He lapped at the bud before answering, “The next one was _The Courtesan _. Asian themed.”  
  
“Ohhh … ‘ _The Blind_ ’ eee! ‘ _The Blind Banker_!’”  
  
He had moved his mouth to her other breast, giving it the same attention. His voice became muffled as he took most of it into his mouth. Molly had moved her hands to his hair, digging her nails slightly into his scalp. He released her breast, brushing the tip of his nose across her aching nipple. “He didn’t find a pub for ‘ _The Great Game _.’ I suppose that a bomb-theme wouldn’t be very popular.”  
  
“Ahhh … no.”  
  
He moved to nip at the underside of each of her breasts before planting open-mouth kisses over her rib cage. “ _Dog & Duck_ is where we went to next.” He slipped the tip of his tongue into her navel, causing her to shriek from the shock of it. He chuckled again.  
  
“ _Dog & Duck_? Oh! ‘ _Hounds of … Baskerville._ ’”  
  
“Mhmmm.” He was nibbling on her left hip bone now. “Second to last was _Hoxley & Porter_.”  
  
“Isn’t that place a bit posh?”  
  
“Yes.” He rested his chin onto her hip and peered up at her. “There is some ridiculous story that the namesake of the place was on a train and disappeared with a diamond he discovered.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “They’ll tell anything to attract a crowd.”  
  
Molly laughed softly, running her hand through his curls. “Which one of your cases is this pub supposed to have a connection with?”  
  
“The one _we_ worked on together … for a short while.”  
  
Her hand grew still. “Oh.”  
  
“Remember Shilcott? The pub was supposed to resemble a train car …” He rolled his eyes. “Looked nothing like a train to me.”  
  
“That was rather sweet of John.”  
  
He snorted against her skin.  
  
“Did you say that was the second to last pub?”  
  
“Ahh … yes.”  
  
“You only made it to five?”  
  
The tips of his ears turned a faint pink.  
  
"You were only having a pint at each pub?"  
  
Sherlock appeared to be studying the pale freckle directly below her navel. "Mmmm ... half pint. John wanted to avoid a repeat of his Stag Night."  
  
Molly let out a snort. "Did he now?" She giggled then stopped. "Wait. You only made it to five pubs, so you only drank two and a half pints!!! You really are a lightweight."  
  
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. He tilted his head forward so that he could give her hip bone a solid bite with his teeth. Molly gave his hair another tug and he moved upwards so that he was eye level with her.  
  
"It wasn't John that snuck the shots into the beer this time, it was Lestrade,” he told her.  
  
She let out a snort and then began to giggle again. "I suppose he thought of it as a way to get back at you, for all the times you’ve gotten his name wrong."  
  
Sherlock sighed and dropped his head down, hushing her up with his mouth upon hers. Molly held him close, hooking her leg over his. He groaned into her mouth, shifting his body ever so slightly so that he could nestle his hardening cock directly against her sex.  
  
“God Sherlock!” she gasped out against his lips. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”  
  
He gave her an all-too-pleased smirk, before rolling his hips so that his cock slipped between her folds. She was wet already. With another roll of his hips he slid inside of her, now fully hard. He held his body still, holding himself up above her.  
  
“Did you have special drinking glasses? Like the ones you brought for John’s Stag Night?” she questioned with a grin.  
  
He sniffed. “Yes. The glasses were in the shape of a skull.”  
  
“Mmm. How fitting! Did Billy procreate?”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes wearily then hissed in a breath when she wiggled her hips.  
  
“’Don’t joke Molly,’” she said, trying her best to imitate his deep tone.  
  
He couldn’t hold back the smile.  
  
“So, tell me. What was the last pub that you went to?”  
  
His smile widened. “ _Barts_.”  
  
“ _Barts_? There’s a pub called _Barts_?”  
  
“Mhmm.” He pulled his length out of her, before sliding back in at an excruciatingly slow pace, causing Molly to mewl softly. “John deemed it an appropriately named pub for us to go to.” Sherlock dropped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. “Seeing as it is my ‘home away from home.’” He kissed her again, giving another slow thrust.  
  
Molly moaned into the kiss, lifting her hips up to meet his. “ _That_ was very sweet of him.” She then gasped, her nails digging into Sherlock’s shoulders as he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. “Were there –OHHHH!—were there other pubs, you were supposed to go to?”  
  
He mouthed at her jaw line. “Yes. Three more.”  
  
“How come-“ her sentence was cut off with a loud moan. Sherlock had grabbed both of her legs, locking them around his waist so that he could enter her more deeply. She breathed in loudly. “How come you only made it to _Barts_?” She let out another moan.  
  
He kissed her again, bringing his movements to a standstill. “John gave a toast to you, and some drunken moron overheard us. He approached, foolishly, and tried to join in on our conversation. I, in my intoxicated state, took him to be insulting you and punched him.”  
  
“Sherlock!” Molly gasped out, her eyes widening.  
  
He grimaced slightly. “I know.”  
  
“I suppose that was why you ended up in jail?”  
  
His ears turned a faint shade of pink once more. He nodded. “Yes. It wasn’t until the next day that Lestrade told me that the man thought we were talking about Molly, the drug. Turns out that he is a dealer and they’ve been trying to catch him for months.” Sherlock had the audacity to smile smugly. “Look at that, even drunk I can catch a criminal! No one in Scotland Yard could ever do that!”  
  
She sighed wearily then let out a shriek when he gave a sudden hard and deep thrust. “Oh God! Don’t stop this time! Please!” she cried out.  
  
He exhaled loudly. “Nope. I don’t think I could if I tried.”  
  
She grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him to shut him up as he continued his strong thrusts. With one final surge of his hips they came together, crying out against each others mouths. He collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressed into her shoulder. She could feel the hot puffs of his breath against her skin. When he moved to roll off of her she held onto him more tightly.  
  
“No. Don’t. I like being close like this. You’re not hurting me.”  
  
He lifted up his head and pressed a lazy kiss to her lips before laying his head back down, his nose brushing up against her neck. “Nap?” he murmured.  
  
“Mmm…nap.”  
  
\---  
  
Three days later Molly was at work when she received a text from Mary.  
  
Your dress has arrived! John hadn’t a clue what it was and I plan to keep it that way so that Sherlock won’t get any ideas. Think it would be better to store it at Meena’s perhaps? – MW  
  
Molly felt her heart race and a smile come to her lips in spite of the fact that she was about to cut open a sixty-five year old gentleman’s chest.  
  
YAY! I can’t wait to see it! It might be best to keep all my things at Meena’s. I greatly appreciate your offer of storing it at yours, but since Sherlock is a frequent visitor there, Meena’s might be the safer bet. – Mx  
  
Ok, in that case I should bring everything to Meena’s ASAP. The bridesmaid dresses are ready as well. Meena and I need to go in for our fitting. – MW  
  
Oh yes! I completely forgot about that, oops! We should make a day of it, the three of us. We can shop for shoes as well. I don’t think I own anything nice enough to go with my wedding dress. - Mx  
  
Most definitely, another lovely Three M-keteers outing! – MW  
  
Molly laughed and told Mary that she would get back with her when she found out from Meena when would be a good time for them to get together. She had to force herself to focus on the autopsy at hand, not being able to stop thinking about seeing her dress in person for the first time. She could only hope that it looked as lovely as it did in the photos.  
  
Luck was on Molly’s side that evening. When she got home Sherlock told her that he had been called out to help Lestrade with a robbery case. A pathetic four, he had grumbled to her before pulling her in for a passionate kiss. Once he and John had left, Molly grabbed up her mobile and called Meena.  
  
“Fancy a visit from Mary and myself … and my … wedding dress?” Molly asked her. She hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her that her dress had arrived. She had to pull her phone away from her ear when Meena let out an excited shriek.  
  
“Absolutely yes! I was about to open a bottle of wine and wallow in crappy romance movies! Please come over and save me from myself!”  
  
Molly laughed. “All right. We’ll be there in a bit, just let me call Mary and make sure that it’s a good time for her. You don’t mind if she brings Emily do you?”  
  
“Of course not, I love the little one.”  
  
“Ok good, see you soon.”  
  
Molly rang off with Meena then selected Mary’s number.  
  
“While the boy’s away shall we play?” Molly asked her when Mary answered.  
  
Mary breathed out a laugh. “Absolutely! Just let me get Emily’s things together.”  
  
“All right, I’ll get a cab and head over.”  
  
A short time later the three of them were settled on Meena’s settee, the dress still in its packaging. Emily was sat in her mother’s lap, cooing and gurgling at the two women. Meena was tickling the girl’s tummy, making her giggle.  
  
“I don’t think there is a better sound than a child’s laughter,” Meena said, stroking Emily’s cheek with her finger.  
  
“Isn’t that how fairies are born? When a child laughs?” Molly pondered.  
  
“According to Peter Pan!” Mary replied.  
  
“Molly. If you don’t open up your dress I am going to dump my glass of wine over your head. And what a terrible waste of perfectly good wine it will be.” Meena took a sip, sending a warning glare towards Molly.  
  
“All right, all right. I’ll open it! It’s pathetic really, I’m actually rather nervous. I’m terrified that I won’t like it.” She began to carefully undo the packaging.  
  
There was a collective gasp from all three of them when she held it up. The dress was perfect. It would of course have to be pressed, being slightly wrinkled from shipping, but it was absolutely beautiful.  
  
“Put it on! Put it on! Put it on!” Meena pleaded, bouncing in her seat like a little kid.  
  
Molly laughed. “Ok!” She went into the bathroom and quickly took off her clothes. When she slipped on the dress she let out another gasp. The fabric felt cool against her skin, and incredibly soft. She had wondered if perhaps she would need to have it fitted, but Mary had done a fantastic job in measuring her.  
  
The photos on the website hadn’t done the dress justice. The cap sleeves nestled against her shoulders, and the empire waist showed off her figure in an elegant and tasteful way. In spite of her lack of an ample bust the bodice neither amplified nor embellished it, instead hugging her breasts just right.  
  
She stared at herself in the mirror, overwhelmed by the thought that she, Molly Hooper, would soon be marrying Sherlock Holmes. Her eyes began to well up with tears.  
  
“Stop torturing us Molly and get your arse out here!” Meena called out.  
  
With a sniffle, and a quick wipe at her eyes, Molly gathered up the skirts of the dress, opened the door and walked out. Mary and Meena’s mouths dropped open.  
  
“Oh Molly, you look beautiful!” Mary breathed out.  
  
She could feel the blush coming to her cheeks, not used to being paid such a compliment.  
  
Meena jumped up from the settee and walked towards Molly. “This dress is absolutely you! Well done Mary, in finding it!”  
  
Molly released the fabric and did a slow twirl. “I don’t even need it to be taken in, it fits me perfectly!”  
  
“Oh you forgot something!” Meena stepped over to the packaging and rummaged through it until she pulled out the grey strip of vintage ribbon that Molly had selected. Meena placed it beneath Molly’s breasts and tied it behind her back. “There. Now the dress looks complete! Oh, wait until Sherlock sees you in this!”  
  
Molly felt her blush deepen, hoping that he did in fact like her in this dress, but also hoping that he would be able to contain himself until a bit later. Apparently the sight of her wearing a dress did something to him.  
  
“It was so hard to tell how yellow the dress was in the photos, I’m glad that it’s a bit more of a cream colour, I didn’t exactly want a yellow dress. I prefer something subtle for this occasion. This is much more chic,” Molly said as she ran her palms down the front of it, loving the feel of the fabric.  
  
Emily gave a gurgle of approval, reaching her chubby hands out towards her. Mary chuckled, pulling her daughter’s hand away. “Uh uh little one, you don’t need to be touching Aunty Molly’s new dress. Leave the ruining of it to your Uncle!”  
  
Meena let out a laugh, and Molly’s cheeks grew crimson.  
  
“If the git tears a hole in this dress I’ll murder him. And he knows that I can make it look like an accident!”  
  
The three of them dissolved into giggles, knowing that she was only joking. Emily chimed in, even though she didn’t understand why.  
  
“I suppose I should take this off now, even though I really don’t want to! It’s very comfortable.” Molly returned to the bathroom and slipped off the dress. She eyed it lovingly as she pulled back on her clothes.  
  
Once it was safely stored away in Meena’s closet the three of them returned to Meena’s settee. Mary had settled down Emily for a nap upon Meena’s bed.  
  
“Will this Saturday work for you both? To do the bridesmaid fittings? And some shoe shopping?” Mary asked them as she swirled her wine.  
  
Meena’s eyes widened in delight. “Shopping? Oh you said the magic word!”  
  
“I’m off this Saturday so that’s good for me,” Molly said as she took a generous sip from her glass. “I’m off tomorrow as well, but there’s some things I need to get done. Wedding things. Nothing exciting though mind you, just some decision making. Sherlock will have my head soon … or I’ll have his.”  
  
Meena snorted. “Groomzilla!” she exclaimed then fell back into the cushions, clutching her middle as she roared with laughter. “Oh I love it! Too funny!”  
  
Mary joined in with the laughter, remembering all too well how enthused Sherlock had been during the planning of her wedding. Molly merely glared into her glass, realizing that her two friends honestly had no idea how much Sherlock was beginning to drive her crazy. There had also been this niggling feeling in the back of her mind; a thought had come to her a few days ago and she couldn’t let go of it. The problem was, should she act upon it, or just ignore it?  
  
Meena suddenly gave Molly’s shoulder a nudge. “Oh come on now, smile! Your wedding day will be here before you know it, and then it will be over, and Sherlock will be a Groomzilla no more! He’ll be your husband! Just focus on that fact and you’ll get through it.”  
  
Molly forced herself to smile. “Yeah, you’re right!”  
  
\---  
  
The next day Molly was stretched out upon the sofa. It was late morning, and she was becoming very aware of the fact that picking out wedding invitations was not all that it was cracked up to be. She had considered going to the shops, but ended up deciding against it. Mycroft had even given her the name of the company that made him his stationary (yes the man still wrote formal letters when it came to it), but she opted out on that one as well. She wasn’t a crafty person, so making them herself was a definite no; thus she resorted to searching about online. Because damnit, it was her day off and she was determined to stay in her jimjams and lounge upon the sofa; she could put Sherlock’s knack for laziness to shame when she put her mind to it.  
  
He was currently in the kitchen, conducting an experiment upon a set of toes that Molly had brought home for him. Apparently it was not going very well, the noises coming from his general direction were not happy ones. She peered at him over her tablet, biting down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling at his mussed up hair. He must have run his hands through it in aggravation.  
  
Clearly the two of them were a perfect pair. She was disgruntled because of her lack of finding any invitations that enthused her, and he was annoyed because his experiment wasn’t working out. To be completely honest, she was rather shocked that he hadn’t spoken a word about the wedding recently. Perhaps he had finally deduced the fact that she didn’t feel the need to discuss it twenty-four/seven. With a sigh she turned off her tablet and placed it on the coffee table. Sherlock had shoved himself away from the kitchen table and was now leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and a prominent pout upon his face.  
  
Molly got up from the sofa and walked towards him. His eyes were sending daggers towards the two toes. She hadn’t a clue as to what he had been trying to do with them, and honestly didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss when it came to the majority of his experiments. Once she was standing in front of him she wrapped her arms about his waist, and nudged her head beneath his crossed arms so that he had no choice but to open them and embrace her.  
  
“Mr. Grumpy Gills…!” she sang softly to him.  
  
He humphed in response; more annoyed with the fact that he knew to which movie the title she was giving him had come from. She gave a chuckle and turned her head so that she could place a kiss upon his chest. His arms around her tightened slightly. She tilted her head back so that she could look up at him and their eyes met. He no longer appeared to be quite so annoyed.  
  
“What I was trying to do didn’t work out so well either. How about we spend the rest of the day watching some crap telly? Then we can get a take away later. How does that sound?” Molly asked him.  
  
“It sounds like when I used to use your flat as a bolt hole.”  
  
She smiled. “Is that a bad thing?”  
  
He shook his head. “No. Not at all.”  
  
“Then let’s do it!”  
  
“All right.”  
  
She loosened her arms on his waist and he slowly let go of her. She then took his hand in hers and led him towards the sofa. He stretched himself out upon it and tugged her down, molding her against the front of him. She sighed happily, snuggling into his hold.  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon watching Doctor Who re-runs. Sherlock managed to hold back his comments about the inaccuracies and improbabilities of the show. By the time early evening set in the pair of them were rather hungry.  
  
“Chinese, Thai, or Italian?” Molly asked him as she poured over the menus.  
  
“Thai,” Sherlock answered.  
  
“Ok. What do you want?” she was about to hand him the menu but quickly realized that there was no need.  
  
“I’ll have the Kai Med Ma Muang.”  
  
Molly blinked, knowing that she shouldn’t be so surprised that he had the menu stored in his Mind Palace. Nor should she be surprised by his perfect enunciation of the language. She always opted to say the English version of the title of the meal, terrified of butchering the words.  
  
Once the food was ordered she told Sherlock that he needed to clean up his experiment. He grumbled but did as she asked. Toby was meowing at her feet, looking for his own dinner. She fed him then took out a bottle of white wine from the fridge.  
  
“Do you want any?” she asked Sherlock.  
  
He eyed the bottle for a moment then shook his head. “Probably better if I don’t.”  
  
She smiled as she poured herself a glass. “Did you drink at all when you were younger? When you were at uni?”  
  
He shook his head again. “No. Didn’t interest me. I preferred chemical substances to alcohol.”  
  
Molly flinched slightly and he stepped closer to her, slipping his arm around her waist in order to pull her into his warmth. “Sorry. But you know that’s true. I told you before that that was when my drug addiction began, back in uni.”  
  
“Yeah. I remember.”  
  
“You would have hated me then. Left me like so many others.”  
  
She turned in his hold and clasped her arms about him tightly, burying her face in his chest. “I don’t think so. I think I would have stayed beside you, tried to help you.”  
  
He laid his cheek upon the top of her head. “As you have always done.”  
  
“And I always will.”  
  
He cupped her chin in his hand, and tilted her head back so that he could press his lips to hers. They kissed deeply for several minutes, holding each other close. It was only because of the sound of the doorbell that they pulled apart.  
  
A few minutes later they were settled down in front of the telly once more. This time they were going to watch _Star Wars_ ; the first film in the original trilogy. Sherlock did not understand why Molly had such a fascination with science fiction. He couldn’t be bothered to remember if the earth revolved around the sun, or the sun revolved around the earth! And the lack of accuracy was appalling. He may have a small knowledge of outer space, but he knew that some of the things in these movies were entirely impossible. But he also knew that Molly enjoyed them and so he kept his thoughts to himself, not exactly wanting a pillow in his face like the last time.  
  
When they had engorged themselves on their food they resumed their previous positions. Molly let out a happy sigh and Sherlock nuzzled the back of her neck. By the time Luke Skywalker and Han Solo were rescuing Princess Leia, Molly had fallen asleep. Sherlock quietly turned off the movie and picked her up in his arms and carried her into their bedroom. She didn’t even wake up as he tucked the covers about her. Instead she only curled up against him, letting out another happy sigh.  
  
On a day like this one had been he would usually have spent it in a huff; annoyed that his experiment hadn’t worked out, and also annoyed that there weren’t any new cases. But ever since he and Molly had gotten together he had come to find that he rather enjoyed just being with her. They didn’t need to be doing anything in particular. He found that he could relax, allow his mind to be calm, at ease. It was something he had never thought possible.  
  
Suddenly Molly shifted against him. She gave his t-shirt a tug. “You’re thinking too loud Mr. Holmes,” she mumbled sleepily.  
  
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before settling himself against his pillow. He closed his eyes, and focused on the sound of her breathing, allowing it to wash over him and lull him into his own repose.  
  
\---  
  
The lazy day that they had spent together had been a glorious one. Molly would have loved nothing more than to have a repeat of it at that very moment. She was exhausted, more so mentally than physically. She had just finished a twelve-hour shift and couldn't wait to settle her tired body into a nice hot bath. She was hoping that Sherlock would be in the mood to accompany her. If not then at least she hoped he would be willing to curl up together in bed with her. She certainly didn't have the energy to do anything else. She slowly climbed the stairs, and just as she opened the door to the flat and stepped inside her tablet was thrust directly before her eyes.  
  
“ _Who_ is _this_?” ____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> DUN! DUN! DUN!
> 
> Heh … I really am a sucker for these cliff hangers, aren’t I? 
> 
> And the book that Molly bought Sherlock is real! And here is the link to Molly’s wedding dress! :D Just scroll down ad you’ll see it ;) https://www.etsy.com/transaction/72130500?
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think, I LOVE hearing from you lovely people! ;) 
> 
> (also this website is being a dick and not italicizing what I want it to ... it did some things, but not all of it, very strange).


	31. Who is This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yipee a chapter! So sorry for the month long wait.
> 
> Sometimes I can find the time to just sit down and write and write, and then other times it just doesn't happen.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my waffling, carry on my friends and read! :D

\---  
  


" _Who_ is _this_?!" Sherlock snarled, having thrust her tablet directly in front of her face.  
  
Molly jumped. "Bloody hell Sherlock!" She stepped back slightly, pushing his hand holding the tablet away from her. He had held it much too close; she couldn't even focus on the image on the screen.  
  
Sherlock repeated his question, more than a hint of anger in his tone. When she at last focused on the image her eyes widened, then narrowed before she let out a weary sigh.  
  
"Thank you, Meena," she muttered beneath her breath. Not giving Sherlock a reply, she ducked beneath his arm that was still holding out the tablet, and walked away from him. She dropped her bag to the floor then took off her coat and unwound her scarf.  
  
"MOLLY! Who is this _person_ that has _his_ arms around you, and you have _your_ arms around him?!"  
  
She was really not in the mood for this. She spun about, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Who do you think it is? You're the Consulting Detective! Figure it out!"  
  
His Buffering Mode face had made an appearance. She threw her arms up in the air than strode passed him down the hall.  
  
"Where-what are you doing?" he spluttered.  
  
"I'm going to take a bath! I have had an absolutely horrid day. I had to perform three autopsies on children today. CHILDREN! All I wanted to do when I came home tonight was to take a nice hot bath and cuddle with my fiancée but clearly that's not going to happen because _he_ thinks that I've gone and cheated on him!" She slammed the bathroom door shut in his face, locking it for good measure. Even though she knew that he could quite easily pick the lock.  
  
With a loud huff she quickly disrobed and then filled the bath with steaming hot water. She sank into it with a slight hiss then buried her face in her hands. She honestly didn't know who she was angrier with: Meena, for sending her the photo, or Sherlock, for too-quickly jumping to conclusions. The man was supposed to be a genius, but clearly he was also an all-too typical male; flying into a jealous rage the moment he saw her in the arms of another man.  
  
If the stupid git had asked her a bit more calmly she would have been all too happy to explain to him who the man in the photo was. Now she was determined to let him stew and fester in his jealousy. The berk deserved it for not trusting her.  
  
She didn't get out of the water until it had grown cold and her skin had wrinkled. She toweled off and walked into the bedroom. She tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms. When she turned about she saw that Sherlock was standing in the doorway. He had a glass of wine in his hand, knowing all too well that when she had a bad day at work she always liked having a glass or two when she got home. Without saying a word he held it out to her. She stepped towards him, took it, then turned back around and walked further into the bedroom.  
  
"Are you going to tell me who he is, or not?" Sherlock's tone was still tinged with anger.  
  
Molly set the wine glass down, a little too hard, nearly breaking the stem. She didn't move her body to face him, instead keeping her back to him. "Maybe when you stop acting like a jealous fool. But for now ..." She strode over to the bed. "SOFA!" she cried out shrilly, aiming his pillow directly at his head.  
  
Sherlock stepped back, catching the pillow in his hands before she moved towards him and slammed the bedroom door shut in his face. She was breathing heavily, having never felt so angry towards him. Not even that time when she had to test him for drugs had she felt so angry; angry and disappointed. She had felt both of these that time, but now she felt them even more.  
  
"If you really need help in figuring out what you've done wrong then call John!" she called out through the door, knowing that he was still standing in the hall.  
  
It wasn't until three hours later, when she failed to fall asleep that she realized all of her anger had ebbed away. All that was left was disappointment. It hurt her that he felt that he couldn't trust her. Why didn't he trust her? He honestly believed that she was capable of such a thing? After all that she had said and done for him?  
  
Her stomach rumbled noisily. It had been doing so for the past hour. As exhausted as she felt she knew that she wouldn't be getting any sleep until she had eaten something. Eaten something and talked to Sherlock. They had both stewed long enough. There were things that needed to be said, but this time not in anger.  
  
She got up from the bed, feeling slightly light-headed. She had only had that one glass of wine since she got home, and not a single drop of water. She had also had to skip her lunch, far too upset from the autopsies she had had to perform to even consider eating.  
  
Once the dizziness abated she stood up from the bed and walked towards the door and opened it. The hallway was dark. She stepped out of the bedroom, only to feel her shins bump into something, sending her off balance. With a great yelp she fell towards the floor but a pair of strong arms caught her. She should have fought against his hold, pounding his chest with her fists, but instead she curled into him as he cradled her body against his own. He was so warm, and in spite of how upset he had made her, she couldn't help but feel comforted by his touch.  
  
"Molly ..." he murmured softly into her hair, "I'm sorry. Forgive me."  
  
Her heart clenched. She had never heard him sound so distraught, so worried. She held tightly onto his shirt, pressing her body up against his. "Sherlock, how could you not trust me?"  
  
He pressed the side of his face against her neck. "I do trust you. I just saw that photo and ... I don't know what came over me."  
  
She sighed into his chest. "You're always telling people that you're a High Functioning Sociopath. They think that you act like you're a machine. But you're not either one of these things. You're a human being. You have feelings, no matter how hard you try to suppress them." She slowly let out a breath. "The man in the photo, his name is Julien. Meena and I know him from university. We lost contact with him, and neither one of us had any idea that he was living in Paris. We just happened to run into him and we got to talking and ended up spending some time with him. I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd care to know. And I completely forgot that Meena took that photo!"  
  
Sherlock exhaled loudly. "That still doesn't explain why his hands were all over you!"  
  
She dug her nails into his chest. "Oh my word Sherlock! He's gay, you utter twat!"  
  
She felt his body stiffen momentarily, then relax as he sighed. "I always do miss something."  
  
She snorted. "Yes you do, you git."  
  
He buried his face deeper into her neck. "Call me all the names you can think of, I deserve everyone of them."  
  
She moved her hands until they were splayed out across his back. "Sherlock, I'm sorry. I should have told you about him. I would have reacted the same way that you did, if I had come across a photo of you and some unknown woman."  
  
He breathed loudly against her skin. "You already have. At John's wedding, when the pictures were being taken."  
  
She groaned into his chest. "You saw that? Of course you saw that. I despised Janine, I was so jealous of her."  
  
Sherlock's arms tightened around Molly's waist and he turned his head so that he could press his lips to the curve of her neck. "You are far more superior than she will ever be."  
  
"And Irene Adler? Am I more superior than her?" Molly didn't know why she said it, but once the words came to her she couldn't stop them from spewing from her mouth.  
  
She felt his body stiffen once more. He leaned away from her, and for a brief moment she feared that he was going to get up and walk away. But he didn't. Instead he cupped the sides of her face in his hands, tilting her head back until they were able to make eye contact in the faint light.  
  
"Yes Molly. You are. Did she help me fake my death? _No_. Did she keep my secret for two years? _No_. Does she love me, like you do? _No_. Do I love her, like I love you? _No_. Do I think about making love to her, constantly, like I do with you? _No_. Did I ask her to marry me? _No_. Do I want to spend the rest of my life with her? _No_. Do I want to spend the rest of my life with you? _YES_."  
  
At the beginning of his speech tears had begun to pool in her eyes and they were now flowing freely down her face and over his fingers.  
  
"Molly ... may I kiss you now?"  
  
" _Yes_!"  
  
Their lips met in a passionate kiss. She clung to him, shifting her body until her knees were on either side of his hips as the kiss deepened. Just as he moved to release her face from between his hands, and was about to drop them down to her bum, her stomach let out an almighty growl.  
  
He broke away from her. "You're hungry."  
  
"Famished."  
  
"Let me make something for you." He scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the kitchen.  
  
Molly let out a giggle as she flipped on the switch with her foot. Sherlock quickly silenced her laughter with another kiss as he set her down upon a chair. She would have happily allowed the kiss to deepen, but Sherlock was determined to get some food into her.  
  
"What would you like?" he asked her as he straightened and strode over to the fridge.  
  
"Mmm, I think the proper question is what do we have?" she answered. Upon opening the fridge Sherlock discovered that it was rather barren. "Ahh yes ..."  
  
"I need to go food shopping again." Molly was tracing a line on the table with her fingernail. "My hours at work have been a bit chaotic of late ..."  
  
Sherlock spun about to face her. "I can do the shopping when you're too busy."  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "Would you?"  
  
"Yes. I've done so before. You could of course help me by writing a list of what's needed," as he said this, the tips of his ears became tinged pink.  
  
Molly smiled as she stood up and walked over to him. She draped her arms over his shoulders, lacing her fingers together behind his neck. Sherlock slipped his arms about her waist, tugging her closer up against him, his expression mirroring hers. Her smile grew into a cheeky, little smirk.  
  
"What would the newspapers say if they found out that The World's Only Consulting Detective has become domesticated?"  
  
He grumbled beneath his breath, his eyes narrowing. "Not. Funny."  
  
Her smirk grew wider, just as her stomach growled again.  
  
"Enough teasing. You need food."  
  
He released her from his hold, and stepped over to the cabinets. Molly's eyes drifted over his back, watching his muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he moved about.  
  
"Do we have tomato sauce?" she asked him, her eyes continuing to move downwards.  
  
"Yes." He grabbed the jar and spun about. "Stop ogling my arse. If you don't, I'm going to have my way with you on the table."  
  
Her eyes widened, and a bright red blush covered her cheeks. "Food Sherlock! I need to eat!"  
  
He huffed. "You're the one who is staring. Not me."  
  
She glowered at him. It was his turn to give a cheeky smirk. Still blushing she moved to search for a package of pasta. Upon finding one she faced Sherlock, only to find that he hadn't moved from his previous spot. She raised an eyebrow and then let out a bark of a laugh as he began to rapidly blink.  
  
"I thought I was the only one staring?" she said to him.  
  
This time he let out a low growl. "I mean it Molly, stop it! I'm not going to be able to control myself!"  
  
She bit down on her bottom lip. "I'm not doing anything on purpose!"  
  
He sighed. "I know. I want you, but you need to rest."  
  
Molly walked over to him and wrapped her arms tightly about his waist. "Sherlock, I love you so much!"  
  
He placed a kiss upon the top of her head. "Love you too," he murmured into her hair, rubbing his hand up and down her back. After a few moments he breathed out. "Come on; let's get this made before it gets even later."  
  
Within a few minutes the water was being boiled and the sauce was being heated up. Molly and Sherlock stood before the stove. He had his arm about her shoulders, and she had her arm about his waist. She was idly stirring the pot of sauce.  
  
"Where are we going to go on our honeymoon?" she asked as she tilted her head back to look up at him.  
  
He smiled slightly. "Mmm, don't you mean sex holiday?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Yes. So where are we going to go?"  
  
His smile grew wide. "It's a surprise!"  
  
Molly stuck out her bottom lip, in perfect imitation of when Sherlock was in a sulk. "Another surprise? How will I know what to pack?"  
  
He sniffed. "What will you need to pack? We'll be in bed the entire time!"  
  
She dropped her arm down and gave his bum a pinch, a habit she seemed to have picked up. "We have to leave the bedroom at some point! What about eating?"  
  
He exhaled loudly, pouring the pasta into the boiling water.  
  
"We have to eat Sherlock; we'll need to keep our energy up."  
  
He made a noise of agreement, but said nothing. Silence fell between them. They finished cooking the pasta and sauce and sat down side by side at the table to eat.  
  
For a few minutes more there was no conversation then Sherlock broke through the quiet. "I am really am sorry, Molly, for what I said earlier."  
  
She turned and looked at him. "You don't have to keep apologizing Sherlock. I know it's not an easy thing for you to do."  
  
He wasn't looking at her, but down at his plate, aimlessly twirling the pasta onto his fork. "It isn't. But I can't help but feel the need to repeatedly apologize to you. Your reaction could have been so much worse. You could have stormed out. Left, like you did when I experimented on your knickers."  
  
Molly put down her fork and covered his hand with her own. "But I didn't."  
  
He slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers.  
  
"Sherlock, I didn't exactly leave, I just wanted some time apart. We were still in the very early stages of our relationship at that time, and I felt overwhelmed and that experiment of yours was ... the straw that broke the camels back."  
  
He grimaced slightly.  
  
"But I wasn't going to do that this time; the thought never even crossed my mind."  
  
"It didn't?"  
  
"No. I was angry, but I was more so upset that you would just jump straight away to such a conclusion. You could have called Mary and asked her, or even contacted Meena! I'm actually surprised you didn't just come straight away to the lab! ... ohhhhhh ... sharp objects. Wise decision."  
  
He gave her a small smile. "I know how well you can wield a scalpel."  
  
She let out a slight snort. "What were you doing snooping around on my tablet anyway? Perhaps this has taught you a lesson?"  
  
He began to grumble. "I was bored. I was browsing through your Pinterest ... and your email notification went off and I looked to see what it was. When I saw that it was from Meena, and that it was photos from the weekend, I couldn't stop myself from looking. I was ... curious."  
  
Molly sighed. "Curiosity killed the cat, Sherlock."  
  
"Yes, but satisfaction brought it back."  
  
She gave him a sideways glare and he blanched, causing her to smirk. "So does that mean you were satisfied? Because I honestly don't think so. All that feeding into your curiosity did was make you go into a strop."  
  
He huffed.  
  
"There's this little thing called privacy, Sherlock. I am aware that you have little to no concept of it."  
  
He opened his mouth to speak but Molly quickly clamped her hand over his lips. "It's true Sherlock, don't you dare try and deny it. I know that you used to hack into John's laptop all the time when you two lived together. Did he ever appreciate it? I think not."  
  
Since he couldn't speak he rolled his eyes wearily.  
  
"You said that you trust me. If you really do, than you don't need to read my emails and look at my internet searches. I never feel the compulsion to do that with you! Mostly because I know that I'd probably find an internet search for 'what sort of experiments can I do with a decomposing severed head?'"  
  
He nipped at her palm with his teeth, and she let out a shriek as she jerked her hand away. She glared at him and he chuckled, grabbing her about the waist and pulling her onto his lap.  
  
"Yes, a severed head that you gave to me," he said, dropping his voice to a low tone as he tipped his head to the side in order to suckle on her jaw line. His hands slipped beneath her t-shirt, massaging her skin.  
  
Molly sighed, pressing herself up against his chest as he trailed his lips upwards until they captured her own. She sighed again, deepening the kiss, bringing her hands up to cradle his face.  
  
When they parted for breath he rubbed the tip of his nose up against hers. "I shouldn't have reacted so angrily, I should have seen straight away that you had had an awful day. You were looking for comfort and all I did was made it worse."  
  
She brushed her fingertips over his cheekbones. "You're making it better now. And I know of a way you can make it up to me, completely."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, noting the twinkle in her gaze. "But aren't you tired?"  
  
She smiled. "Yes, I am. But I'm not _that_ tired." To emphasize her point she ground her hips against, feeling him already growing hard beneath her. "Take me to bed Sherlock."  
  
With a quick nod he tightened his hold on her, and pushed away from the table. He then stood up and she wrapped her legs about his waist.  
  
"Hmmm, I think you should carry me to bed more often!" she told him as she put her arms around his shoulders.  
  
He smirked. "I seem to do it quite a lot as it is!"  
  
She giggled, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. Once they entered the bedroom, and he kicked the door shut behind them he gently laid her down upon the bed.  
  
"Just lay back and relax, tonight is going to be all about you," he told her.  
  
Molly grabbed a hold of the sides of his face and pulled him down to her for a passion-filled kiss. He then slowly removed her t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, kissing her revealed skin as he did so before leaning back to remove his own clothes.  
  
He gave each of her breasts a gentle suckle and nibble, just the way she liked it, making sure to mouth at the soft underside of each. He started to kiss his way down her stomach, but just as he reached her navel Molly gave his curls a slight tug.  
  
"Sherlock ..." she sighed.  
  
He raised his head, bringing himself back up to hover over her.  
  
"Please ... just make love to me. I need you inside of me," her words came out in a low, breathy tone. A tone that made his cock twitch and ache in anticipation.  
  
"All right." He kissed her gently then sat up and shifted his body away from hers. He kneeled directly in front of her bum before settling her legs down onto either side of his hips so that her thighs were resting on top of his. She was spread open for him. He gave his hips a nudge forward, taking his cock in his hand so that he could brush the head against her soaked center, while his other hand rested on top of her thigh.  
  
"Sherlock ... please!"  
  
Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Reminding himself that tonight was about her, he placed the head of his cock at her entrance and slid himself in.  
  
"Ohhh! Yessss!" she whimpered, clutching at the bed sheets.  
  
Sherlock forced himself to keep a slow pace; wanting to allow her to revel in the sensations their joined bodies were creating. Besides, the image of her breasts bouncing with each of his thrusts was a glorious sight to behold. He moved his hand from her thigh, only to place it over the top of her pubic mound in order to massage her skin there and swirl his thumb over clit; the near-feral moan she let out was very nearly his undoing.  
  
"Sherlock!"  
  
He tore his gaze away from watching himself enter her, bringing his eyes up to meet hers.  
  
"I need you closer to me."  
  
Without missing a single tender thrust, he eased her legs down onto the bed before stretching his body out over hers. As he became eye level with her she grabbed a hold of him and kissed him deeply. She hooked both of her legs over his hips, allowing him to enter her deeper now.  
  
"So close, Sherlock," she whimpered to him, moaning against his lips as he kissed her again, rocking his body against hers.  
  
His pelvis was pressing directly into her clit and it was only a few moments later that she was shuddering beneath him, crying out his name ever so softly. He soon joined her, cradling her body against his as he fell to the side. She curled into him, letting out a blissful sigh as her eyes closed.  
  
After he caught his breath he began to place kisses onto her face; on her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, all but the lips. Molly let out a giggle when he kissed the shell of her ear. But when he proceeded to repeat the process she let out an annoyed huff.  
  
"Kiss me on the lips damnit!" she cried out.  
  
He chuckled and complied, the kiss quickly growing in passion.  
  
"I love you so much Sherlock," she murmured against his mouth.  
  
"Mmm ... love you too. Now go to sleep." He blindly reached out for the duvet, pulling it up to cover them both. Within minutes the pair of them were fast asleep.  
  
\---  
  
Saturday dawned a bit foggy and drizzly, but Molly was determined to not allow the weather to put a damper on her mood. She was going to have a lovely day wandering about London shopping with Meena and Mary, rain or no rain! With a great yawn she sat up, taking note that Sherlock must have long ago left the bed. She stood and decided to take a shower first, to get it done and over with before having something to eat. Once she was finished, dressed, and had plaited her hair she left the bedroom.  
  
Sherlock was stood before the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest, facing the wall. The Deduction Wall she liked to call it. But at the moment it was not covered in bits and pieces of clues for a current case, no it was covered in bits and pieces about their upcoming nuptials. Wedding Wall was a more appropriate title for it now. With a roll of her eyes she stepped into the kitchen and set about making tea.  
  
Just as she was about to bring a cup down from the cabinet, she felt a pair of arms slip about her waist. She giggled when she felt his chest press against her back as his lips made contact with her neck.  
  
“Morning.”  
  
The rumble of his voice made her shiver slightly. “Mmm, morning to you too!” She turned herself about so that she could greet him properly. Once their lips parted she nodded towards the sitting room, where just a hint of the Wedding Wall could be seen. “What are you up to?”  
  
He smiled and reached around her to grab a cup for himself, putting it down beside the one she had taken out. “I’m working on the wedding! Come and see.” He took her hand in his and led her into the room. “I just finished placing people at their tables. What do you think?”  
  
Molly looked over the diagram that Sherlock had made. The strange niggling feeling suddenly reared its head, and no matter what she tried to do she couldn’t keep it at bay. She swallowed before saying, “It looks perfect, although I am rather surprised that you placed Sherrinford and Meena next to each other.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Well you were the one that told me you thought they’d be ‘good’ together.” He even had the audacity to make air quotes.  
  
She glared at him. “I think that they would make a very sweet couple. Meena is already looking forward to meeting him!”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes once more and flopped himself down into his chair. “Please don’t try and play matchmaker Molly!”  
  
She sniffed. “You’re just worried that you’ll have to attend another wedding!”  
  
He lifted his hands, poised in prayer mode, to his lips and began to grumble indecipherably behind them. She moved to return to the kitchen but stopped when his voice broke through the silence that had fallen.  
  
“Have you ordered invitations yet?”  
  
She grimaced slightly. “Uhmmm, no. Not yet!”  
  
“Molly! That needs to be done, they should be sent out soon.”  
  
She chewed her bottom lip. “I know. I’ll have another look when I get home later all right?”  
  
He shrugged. “You’re going shopping with Meena and Mary today?”  
  
“Yeah, and to have their bridesmaid dresses fitted. What are you doing today? I thought you had a case?”  
  
He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “Solved. John is forcing me to go with him to have my suit fitted.”  
  
She giggled at his disgruntled expression. “For a man who acts like he has no interest in clothes, you do tend to dress rather well.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’d rather be solving a simple four, than spend the day at a suit makers with John.”  
  
She shook her head. “Did Sherrinford send you his measurements? It’s a shame he can’t make it until the day of the wedding, it would be nice to have seen him beforehand.”  
  
“He sent those weeks ago. Why do you need to see him before the wedding? He’ll be just as dull as the last time you saw him.”  
  
“Sherlock! Your brother is not dull! I don’t think the word dull could ever be affixed to a Holmes. I don’t understand why you talk him down, not only is he your brother but he is your twin. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? And don’t you dare start on that whole bit about you being jealous! Your brother loves you Sherlock, I know he does. Family is important, no matter how much you may spout about how little you care for sentiment, I know deep down that you love your brother as well. It's time to forgive each other, and start anew."  
  
Sherlock's disgruntled expression had faded away. He knew that what Molly was saying was true. "If it will make you happy, I'll try my best to be nicer to him." He reached out and clasped his fingers around hers.  
  
She smiled and moved to straddle his lap. "You'll be happier too, in the long run." She stroked his cheek with her fingertips.  
  
He sighed. "You're going to end up being right, aren't you?"  
  
Molly laughed softly. "I just very well may be."  
  
He held her close as he kissed her. "Can't we just stay in today?" he groused, tucking her a bit closer up against him.  
  
She gave his chest a gentle shove. "No, we cannot! Go and enjoy yourself with John. Perhaps the suit maker's will have need of a Consulting Detective while you are there," she said to him, and he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Don't make jokes, Molly."  
  
They spoke this at the same time, resulting in them both laughing. He quickly silenced her mirth with another kiss.  
  
"Hoo! Hoo!"  
  
They parted and looked towards the door, where Mrs. Hudson was standing with a tray in her hands. She stepped into the flat and carried the tray over to the coffee table and set it down.  
  
"Thought I'd bring you two some tea and breakfast, knowing that you both are going to have a busy day. Oh my dears, how I love seeing the pair of you so happy!"  
  
Molly felt a faint blush come to her cheeks. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson." She gave Sherlock a nudge with her elbow.  
  
"Mmf, thank you."  
  
Mrs. Hudson smiled, giving them a knowing look. "I'll leave you two alone now. Enjoy your day!"  
  
Once she left the flat, Molly stood up and poured herself and Sherlock a cuppa. When she handed Sherlock his tea, he gave the top of his leg a tap.  
  
"Come sit back down," he told her.  
  
With a smile she picked up the two plates of food Mrs. Hudson had prepared for them and returned to his lap. It took a bit of finagling but they managed to situate themselves comfortably. They quietly sipped their tea, and ate.  
  
"How long do you think you'll be today?" he asked her, when they had finished.  
  
"Probably all afternoon."  
  
He pouted.  
  
"No good cases recently?"  
  
He humphed. "No. Lestrade hasn't had anything above a four these past two weeks. Have all the murderer's gone on holiday?"  
  
Molly grimaced. "Honestly, Sherlock."  
  
He continued to protest beneath his breath. She shook her head and got up from his lap, taking their dishes and the tea things into the kitchen to wash them. When Molly returned to the sitting room Sherlock was still sat in his chair, but now with his laptop.  
  
"Looking for a new case?" she enquired.  
  
"Hmm? What? No. I'm typing up another diagram for the wedding," he answered.  
  
She placed her hands upon her hips, giving him an amused smile. "I don't think I've ever heard of the groom doing more of the planning than the bride."  
  
He stopped typing and looked up at her. "I'm not doing all of it! Am I?"  
  
She chuckled. "I don't mind. I was just commenting that's all. I'm horrible with these kinds of things. I really do greatly appreciate all that you're doing." She glanced at the Wedding Wall and once again, that odd little niggling thought came to the forefront of her mind. She cleared her throat and moved to step away when Sherlock reached out and grabbed her hand.  
  
"You will get the invitations soon, won't you?" he asked her.  
  
"Oh yes. Don't worry. I'll see if perhaps I can find some today and if not I'll look online when I get back. At least it's not like we'll be sending out two-hundred!"  
  
He gave a snort and released her hand. "Yes. Exactly."  
  
"Is your mother upset that we're only inviting who _we_ want?"  
  
He looked up from his screen. "She was at first, but then I explained to her our reasoning, and she understood."  
  
"Good. I'm glad. There's nothing more terrifying than having a bunch of strangers stare at you while you're talking." Molly shuddered slightly. "Speaking to interns is one thing, but saying my vows is another." She turned and fully faced Sherlock. "Although, I'll probably be oblivious to everything and everyone, but you."  
  
He smiled, it widening when she leaned forward to give him a kiss. "I'm quite certain that I will be doing the same,” he told her.  
  
She chuckled before giving him another kiss. "I'm going to go finish getting ready. Mary and Meena should be here soon."  
  
A short while later Molly was slipping on her shoes and grabbing her bag. Sherlock was still sat in his chair, typing frantically away at his laptop. What the mad git could have come up with now she couldn’t possibly imagine. She walked over to him and placed a kiss on top of his head.  
  
“See you later,” she said to him.  
  
The furious typing came to a standstill, and before she could step away he had grabbed her, tugging her downwards for a deep, passionate kiss. She giggled against his lips, giving him another quick kiss before stepping out of his hold.  
  
“Chinese or Thai tonight?” he asked her as she moved towards the door.  
  
She looked over her shoulder. “You can choose. I don’t mind! Love you!” She blew him a kiss before hurrying down the stairs.  
  
Mary was stood in Mrs. Hudson’s doorway handing over Emily’s things. Mrs. Hudson truly was a dear to be so willing to watch the little girl; as she had gotten older she had been proving to be quite a handful. How could she not be though, with the two people she had as parents? Molly stifled a giggle at the thought, giving a wave goodbye to Mrs. Hudson as Mary pressed a kiss to Emily’s cheek, before following Molly out the door.  
  
Meena greeted them as they entered the cab. The rain had dulled to a faint misting, but it was still rather foggy out.  
  
“Hello!” Molly said as she snuggled into her seat. “Shame that it’s not a nicer day.”  
  
“Yes. But if you think about it, it really is rather perfect weather for what we plan to do. If it was nicer out we would want to be spending our time out of doors, not inside shops,” Mary noted.  
  
As the cab sped off the three of them settled into discussing their plans for the day. First they were to going to go and have the bridesmaid dresses fitted, and then they would shop for shoes. Molly wanted to also look for jewelry to gift to both Mary and Meena, for them to wear on the day of the wedding.  
  
When they arrived at the dress shop Meena started to do an excited little dance. “I can’t wait to see my dress, too bad you didn’t have yours with you Molly, it would be lovely to see them side by side!”  
  
Molly laughed. “We will eventually, when the dresses are finished. We can have a little faux wedding, sans groom, at your flat!” She then turned to Mary. “It’s a shame your daughter isn’t a little bit older; I would have loved to have had her as my flower girl.”  
  
“Oh, that would have been fantastic! You and Sherlock will just have to do a vow renewal in a couple of years!” Mary said to her.  
  
The three of them laughed as they made their way inside. The shop owner greeted them and brought them towards the back where the changing rooms were. Molly took a seat while they put on their dresses. As much as she tried not to, she couldn’t help but allow her mind to drift back to the thought of Tom.  
  
During the time that they were engaged she was never able to bring herself to even contemplate planning their wedding. She had attempted to do so, several times, but never felt truly motivated to do so. Tom had wanted to get married straight away, but she kept pushing back the idea. And now that she thought of it, she realized as to why she had done so. Deep down she had never wanted to marry him. And if she had gone through with it, she would have been miserable. In fact, she would now have most likely have been going through a divorce. There was a side to Tom that had not reared its ugly head until after their engagement; a sure sign that a marriage with him would not have been a good thing.  
  
And now here she was, waiting for her two best friends to show her the bridesmaid dresses she had picked out for her marriage to Sherlock Holmes. She giggled at the thought, amazed at how far the two of them had come. Never in her wildest fantasies had she ever contemplated this being the end result. But this felt right, this was what she wanted, what she had always wanted. And it repeatedly, (and she hoped it always would) made her heart soar with happiness at the thought that he wanted it as well. The man had changed so much, and yet was still very much so the same.  
  
The sound of two doors opening brought her back to the present. Mary and Meena stepped out of their changing rooms, both of them smiling widely. Molly’s eyes widened with delight. She jumped to her feet and laughed with joy.  
  
“Oh you two look amazing!” she exclaimed.  
  
The silvery grey fabric of the dress managed to compliment both Mary’s pale skin as well as Meena’s much darker complexion. They both slowly twirled so that Molly could see the entire dress.  
  
“Do you like it?” she asked.  
  
“Like it? Molly I love it! This dress is absolutely gorgeous!” Meena said to her as she ran her hands over the silky fabric.  
  
“I never thought that grey was my colour, but I must say, I do rather like the way I look in this dress.” Mary gave another twirl.  
  
The shops seamstress was standing off to the side, eyeing the two women to see where the dresses required taking in. After she pinned up the area’s that needed to be worked on the two of them regretfully returned to their changing rooms.  
  
“Thank you for having such excellent taste, Molly!” Meena said to her as she gave her a hug. “Have you ever seen the film, _27 Dresses_? The main character in it has been a bridesmaid twenty-seven times, and some of the dresses she had to wear were absolutely appalling!”  
  
They left the shop and started to walk down the street. The fog was beginning to dissipate but there did not appear to be any possibility of the sun making an appearance. Mary was leading the way to the shop where she had bought the shoes she wore for her own wedding. The air was a bit nippy, and the three of them were relieved when they made their way back inside. They perused for several minutes, avoiding being directed by the women who worked their, instead wanting to ramble on their own terms.  
  
Molly was holding up a pair of shoes, comparing their colour to the picture of her wedding dress on Meena's phone, when she heard her text tone go off. She handed Meena back her mobile before taking out hers from her pocket. The text was from Sherlock.  
  
John is making me ask you what colour socks we should wear. I am a grown man; shouldn't I be allowed to pick the colour of my own socks? – SH  
  
She giggled as she read his disgruntled message, before typing back a reply.  
  
Yellow, please. I’ll let you decide on the shade. I trust your judgment. - Mx  
  
May I enquire as to why you have chosen that particular colour? - SH  
  
She rolled her eyes, feeling as if she was communicating with an overgrown toddler.  
  
Because it's the colour theme of our wedding you dolt! Your suit is grey, so your socks should be yellow. Actually now that you've mentioned this, your tie should be yellow as well :) - Mx  
  
She could just imagine the pout upon Sherlock's face as he read her message. She was almost tempted to text John and ask him to take a picture. She then came up with an even better idea.  
  
Complain and I'll pick out invitations with kittens on them! - Mx  
  
His reply came a few minutes later.  
  
Well played, Molly Hooper. - SH  
  
She smiled in triumph and pocketed her phone. "Mary, what do you think of these? I thought that they matched the ribbon on my dress rather well," Molly asked as she held up a pair of pale grey pumps.  
  
Mary walked over to her. "Oh those are lovely! I think they're perfect. I just found these! Do you think they're a bit too bright?" She held up a pair of yellow heels.  
  
Molly eyed them for a moment. "Mmm, perhaps so. I like them, but they are a rather predominant shade!"  
  
Mary looked them over again. "Yeah. I suppose you're right. Don't want to outshine the bride now do we?" She gave Meena a nudge with her elbow.  
  
Meena smiled. "With the dress Molly will be wearing, I don't think that will be possible!"  
  
A short time later they managed to each find a pair of shoes in the proper shade of yellow. Laden with their purchases they decided to stop for a bite of lunch.  
  
As they ate Molly told them what she wanted to do next. “I really would like to buy you both jewelry to wear, perhaps earrings. Would you two like that?”  
  
“Oh you don’t have to do that!” Mary said to her.  
  
“I don’t have to, but I would like to.”  
  
Meena smiled. “Well, you know me, I’ll never say no to jewelry!” She winked before wrapping her multi-ring bedecked fingers around her cup of tea.  
  
“Did you have anything particular in mind?” Mary asked Molly as she speared a few pieces of lettuce with her fork.  
  
Molly took out her mobile. “The other day I was perusing the Harrods website and I came across these beautiful earrings.” She searched for the photo she had saved. “What do you think?” she asked, as she held it up so they could see.  
  
Both Mary and Meena’s mouths dropped open.  
  
“Oh my God, Molly! Those are gorgeous! Are you sure? They look really expensive!” Meena looked at her friend, amazed that she wanted to give her such a beautiful gift.  
  
Molly dismissed her concern with the wave of her hand. “They’re not too bad, and I have quite a bit of money saved. The two of you took me to Paris and paid for the whole trip! I want to give you both something special. But only if you like them, we could look for something else if you don’t.”  
  
Mary laid her hand on top of Molly’s. “I love them, thank you.”  
  
Meena took Molly’s phone to get a closer look. “I like how you picked a stone that goes with the theme. These really are stunning; I don’t think I’ve ever owned earrings like these.”  
  
“That’s settled then! We’ll go to Harrods when were finished here. I had called to make sure that they had them available, and they’ve set aside two pairs for me. You can make your final decision there, and look around to see if there may be something else you may like.”  
  
“What about you though, what will you be wearing?” Mary asked as she resumed eating her salad.  
  
“Sherlock’s mother has a pair of earrings she said she wants to give me, they were her mother’s. She wore them for her wedding and Sherlock’s mother wore them for her wedding, and now she wants me to wear them for mine. Sherlock assured me that I’ll like them.”  
  
“You haven’t seen them yet?” Meena asked.  
  
“No. But I trust Sherlock, and I trust his mother. I highly doubt that they would be some gaudy, awful things!”  
  
Once they had finished their lunch they got a cab and made their way to Harrods.  
  
“It’s been an age since I’ve been in here. I should pick up some of Sherlock’s favourite tea. Did you know that the git put it up on a shelf so I couldn’t reach it, thinking that I would drink it all? What an absolute arse.”  
  
The three of them giggled as they made their way to where the jewelry was. Molly approached one of the workers and told him that she had earrings on hold.  
  
When he laid them out on the glass countertop, Mary and Meena’s mouths dropped open once more. The earrings were even more beautiful in person, and the light made them sparkle.  
  
“I take it by your expressions that it’s a yes then?” Molly asked, before laughing slightly.  
  
The two of them nodded, and were very pleased when the man told them that they could try them on if they liked. The earrings were square cut, and the stone was of pale yellow. They were neither too large, nor too small. Molly couldn’t believe how lucky she had been in finding such perfect earrings for her friends.  
  
She made her purchase and they spent a decent amount of time wandering about the rest of the shop. Both Molly and Mary bought a few items for their significant others. Molly made sure to give Meena a nudge, telling her that perhaps in a short time she would be doing the same thing for Sherrinford. Meena blushed at the thought, giggling like a schoolgirl.  
  
“I haven’t even met the man and you already think that I’m going to end up with him?”  
  
Molly shrugged. “It’s possible. I can’t help it; I really am deep down a hopeless romantic.”  
  
Mary suddenly stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry ladies, but all this shopping has clear worn me out. Blame it on being a mother!”  
  
Now laden with even more purchases they made their way back outside and hailed another cab. They first went to Meena’s flat, where they were keeping all of the items that pertained to the wedding.  
  
“I feel as if I should open my own shop!” Meena said to them as they stored the things in her wardrobe. She then pulled Molly into another hug. “I really cannot express to you how much I love you for buying me those earrings! Thank you so much.”  
  
Molly hugged her back. “And thank you, for staying such a true friend all of these years.”  
  
When Mary and Molly got back into the cab, Mary leaned back and closed her eyes. “Molly, you are a fantastic woman, and I am honoured that you consider me as a friend. Sherlock is a very lucky man.” She opened her eyes and looked at her.  
  
“I’m honoured to have you as a friend as well. And I say, likewise for you and John.”  
  
They smiled at each other then settled into a comfortable silence as they traveled towards 221. When they arrived Mary followed Molly inside to pick up Emily from Mrs. Hudson. She was pleased to discover that her daughter was currently napping. Mary couldn’t have been happier to find her in such a calm state, and was hoping that when she got home she could take a nap as well.  
  
Sherlock wasn’t in the flat when Molly entered 221B. She quickly changed into more comfortable clothes before puttering about the kitchen to make her self a cuppa. She placed the tea she had bought for him on the kitchen counter, where she knew he would see it, right beside a set of his beakers. Toby meowed at her feet, rubbing against her ankles. She refreshed his food and bowl of water.  
  
Once the tea was made she took her tablet and went and sat upon the sofa, her back to the Wedding Wall. She had forced herself to not even give it a glance. She had told Sherlock that she would find invitations, and she had every intention of doing so. As she sipped her tea a sudden idea came to her, with a giggle she opened her Pinterest and typed into the search box. The search resulted in more than what she expected. With a noise of excitement she began to peruse through her choices.  
  
By the time Sherlock had arrived home, an hour later, she had found invitations and had ordered them. She ran to him, throwing her arms about his waist, nearly toppling him over.  
  
He chuckled, putting his arms around her. “And hello to you too!”  
  
She tilted her head back, smiling up at him. He pressed his lips to hers, giving her a gentle kiss. She moved her hands up to his face, running her fingertips across his jaw line, his skin feeling cool from the outside air.  
  
“I did what you asked of me,” she told him.  
  
“Hmm? Did you now?”  
  
“Yes. I found invitations, and ordered them.” She gave him a satisfied smile.  
  
“Ahhh, very good, that means that I can take you directly to bed!” He gave her a gentle tug towards the direction of their bedroom.  
  
“Sherlock!” She laughed. “Aren’t you ever satisfied?!” She continued to laugh, allowing him to lead her down the hall.  
  
“Nope!” He popped the ‘p’ in his normal, obnxosious manner. He closed the door shut behind them and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her close as he kissed her once more. “For you, and your delectable body, never!” He kissed her again, carrying her to the bed.  
  
She chuckled against his lips as he laid her down, stretching himself out above her. “You solved a case didn’t you?”  
  
He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “How did you know?”  
  
She continued to smile. “I can see it in your eyes. Tell me about it?”  
  
He dropped his head back down and mouthed at her throat. “It was just as you said; the shop owner was suspicious about his workers. He knew one of them was stealing, but he couldn’t figure out whom, and he didn’t want to have to fire everyone. I found the man and it turns out, he was wanted for much more than stealing; the NSY have been trying to hunt down this very person for impersonating a policeman, amongst various other thefts.”  
  
“Gracious. Sherlock how do you do it? Are these cases just magically drawn to you?”  
  
He lifted up his head and gave her a weary look. She giggled, biting down on her bottom lip.  
  
“And you call me ridiculous!” he grumbled.  
  
She giggled again. “That’s because you are!”  
  
“Hush now.” He silenced her with his lips.  
  
\---  
  
A few days later Molly was rushing about their bedroom. She wasn't exactly late for work, but if she didn't leave within the next five minutes she most likely would be. Of course she had to mutter under her breath that it wouldn't really matter if she was late; the dead weren't going to go anywhere! As she finished the sentence in her head she couldn't help but hear Sherlock's voice chime in and remind her (as he often did) not to joke. With a snort she grabbed her bag and exited the bedroom. Sherlock was sat in his chair, his laptop perched on his knees, busily typing away. He looked up as Molly walked towards him and she noticed that his eyes flickered from her, to the kitchen, then back to her.  
  
She eyed him warily. "What is it?"  
  
He blinked rapidly. "What is what?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and moved towards the kitchen, within a flash Sherlock had gotten to his feet and was before her, blocking her path. She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"Oh yes, good job Sherlock, I'm not remotely suspicious now! Whom or what is in there? You haven't done some experiment on Toby have you?"  
  
His eyelashes fluttered. "NO! I haven't touched that damn cat! In spite of that fact that he very nearly ruined my mold spores yesterday."  
  
"Why won't you allow me in the kitchen Sherlock?"  
  
His lips moved but nothing came out.  
  
With a roll of her eyes, Molly stepped around him and moved into the other room. This time he didn't stop her. When she stepped into the kitchen her mouth dropped open. The last person she ever expected to see was stood before her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> *cackles* I really am evil, aren't I?
> 
> … did anyone catch the nod I gave to Jane Eyre? o_O
> 
> As always, be sure to let me know what you think! :D


	32. The Last Person She Ever Expected to See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! Woop!
> 
> Look at me, a chapter! yay! And without a month's wait between :-P
> 
> Can't guarantee anything with the next one though, eep!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and lilsherlockian1975, I threw something in here towards the end that I think you might like ;)

\---

The last person Molly ever expected to see was stood before her.  
  
"Wiggins?" she questioned, or at least she thought it was Wiggins; he looked entirely different from the time she had seen him in the lab. Of course she had been rather distracted by the fact that Sherlock was high, but right now, standing before her, was a very well-dressed, much healthier looking young man. Not the druggy, dirty clothed young man that had accompanied Sherlock.  
  
"'Ello Missus Molly!" he said to her, raising his mug of tea in a mock toast.  
  
She blinked at him then spun about and faced Sherlock who had followed her into the kitchen. "May I speak to you, alone?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him towards their bedroom.  
  
The door slammed shut behind them and as soon as they had entered the room she dropped his hand, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Why is there a drug addict in our kitchen?"  
  
Sherlock's mouth opened then closed, he did this several times, rather resembling a goldfish. Molly had never seen him so uncertain of what to say before.  
  
She softened her tone as she asked, "Sherlock, please tell me, what's going on?"  
  
He swallowed thickly. "Wiggins has been in rehab for the past year. He was just released."  
  
"That still doesn't explain what he's doing in our kitchen."  
  
Sherlock stepped closer to her, grasping her shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes. "I am not doing drugs again."  
  
A breath that Molly realized she hadn't been holding, slowly escaped her. "I know that Sherlock. I trust you. I just want to know why he's here. Is it wise for you to associate with him?"  
  
Sherlock moved away from her, running his hand through his curls. "I know, 'once an addict, always an addict.'" He sighed. "I'm not at risk Molly. I wouldn't do that to you." He rubbed his hand over his cheek, remembering all-too-well how she had reacted the last time he had fallen back on his old habit. "Wiggins is here, because I have decided to make him my protégé. You heard him, that day in the lab, he has a mind for deduction but without the proper help and guidance it will all go to waste."  
  
To say the very least, Molly was floored by what Sherlock had just said. She stared at him, the fact that she needed to have left for work over ten minutes ago was far from her mind. "Sherlock, do you have any idea what taking on such a thing means?"  
  
He exhaled loudly. "Yes. I know. But he deserves to be helped, Molly. His family has abandoned him; they want nothing to do with him. He has no one."  
  
She moved closer to Sherlock, wrapping her arms about his waist, and laid her cheek on his chest. "Unlike you. You had your family's support; they never gave up on you."  
  
Sherlock held her close, burying his nose in her hair and breathing deeply. "Exactly. I resented them at the time, but I know now that I never would have survived without them."  
  
Molly slipped her hands over his back. "Listen to yourself, who know that you could sound so sentimental!"  
  
He let out another loud exhale. "I know. I'm absolutely appalled."  
  
She chuckled softly, moving her head so that she could place a kiss upon his shirt. "Well, accepting help is the first step. If he's willing to be helped, then ... that's a very good thing."  
  
Sherlock cupped her chin in his hand so that they could look at each other. "You don't mind?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. I just wish you had told me."  
  
His eyes flitted down to her lips than back up to meet her gaze. "I wanted to, but I didn't want to bring to the surface any bad memories."  
  
"So you were just going to continue to help him, behind my back?"  
  
He had that look about him that he knew he had done something Not Good.  
  
"Sherlock, we're going to be married soon, you need to be able to trust me, and tell me things. You need to be honest with me."  
  
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."  
  
Molly raised her eyebrows. "What's this? Sherlock Holmes apologizing? Are you planning to make a habit of this now?"  
  
He huffed. "I'm apologizing, because I hate disappointing you."  
  
She smiled and brought her hand up to cradle his cheek. "Just tell me from the start next time."  
  
He nodded, bumping his nose against hers. "I suppose that this would be a good time then to tell you that I've invited him to our wedding."  
  
She slowly let out a breath. "Mmm... yeah, it would be."  
  
"Is ... that all right?"  
  
She looked up at him, taking note that he was concerned. "It’s fine Sherlock. I don't mind. Just please, from now on, try and make an effort to tell me things, ok?"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
She pressed her lips to his, giving him a sweet, tender kiss. "I need to leave for work, I'm already late!"  
  
Sherlock released her from his hold, even though he clearly didn't want to, and followed her out of the bedroom.  
  
Just as she stepped out into the hall she turned around and asked, "Why is he here?"  
  
"I'm taking him with me on a case."  
  
"Oh. John is going to love that. He may punch you again."  
  
Sherlock snorted. "He's forgiven me. He won't."  
  
Molly side-eyed him. "If you say so. But I honestly won't be shocked if you come home tonight with a broken, bloody nose. I did have to clean up the last one he gave you."  
  
She returned to the sitting room and picked up her bag. Wiggins was still in the kitchen drinking his tea. It looked as if he hadn't moved from the spot where she had last seen him.  
  
"It's nice to see you again Wiggins, I'm glad to know you're doing well."  
  
He smiled and raised his mug again. "Warmest congratulations and best wishes for the soon-to-be Missus!"  
  
She smiled slightly. "Uhm ahh, thanks." She could practically feel Sherlock sneering behind her. She quickly turned about and gave her best ‘don’t fuck this up’ look before grabbing her coat and exiting the flat, hurrying down the stairs. She came to a standstill when she reached the front door, wrapping her scarf around her neck before tugging on her coat. Suddenly there was a great rush of footsteps coming down the stairs behind her. She turned to face him as he stopped on the final step.  
  
“You’re-you’re going to leave without giving me a goodbye kiss?” Sherlock asked her.  
  
She tilted her head to the side. “I wasn’t about to kiss you in front of him, didn’t think you’d like that too much.”  
  
“Ahh.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  
  
“Well, come here you great tit!”  
  
He smiled and jumped from the bottom step, enveloping her in his embrace. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and she moaned softly into his mouth.  
  
“I really am—very late—for work—Sherlock!” she panted out between gasps for breath as he continued to kiss her. “You have—a case—to solve—Mr. Holmes!”  
  
He released her, stepping back slightly and she took a few steadying breaths.  
  
“All right, see you tonight then! The game is on!” she said to him.  
  
He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, watching as she opened the door and stepped out of it. She gave him a wave before closing the door behind her. She took another breath. Insufferable git! Winding her up like that with such a kiss! How was she going to get through work now, when all she could think of was of the promises of things to come that that kiss held?  
  
By the time she reached the tube, her rapidly beating heart had returned to its usual steady rhythm and she forced herself to focus on her book. Upon entering Bart’s she gave an apologetic smile to Stamford, who returned it with a stern glare, which wasn’t all that stern at all. She chuckled to herself, pleased to have such an easygoing, laid back boss.  
  
Just as Molly was pulling on her lab coat her mobile pinged, she grabbed it from her bag, surprised to see that it was a text from John.  
  
Sherlock told me that you were all right with him helping out Wiggins, but I had to make sure myself. - JW  
  
She smiled slightly, and quickly typed back a reply.  
  
Yes, I am. I trust him. - Mx  
  
All right, as long as you do. I think it may take me a bit more convincing, but I'll do my best. - JW  
  
You didn't punch Sherlock, did you? - Mx  
  
No. I managed to contain myself. - JW  
  
Good. Thank you. I wasn't exactly looking forward to taking care of a bloody nose when I got home tonight. - Mx  
  
It took all of my self control. And if you had told me that you hadn't agreed to it, or that you hadn't even known, I would have punched him. - JW  
  
Perhaps you should invest in a punching bag? I guess Mary has a good reason for calling you her angry little hedgehog! - Mx  
  
She calls me that? - JW  
  
Oh shit. You didn't know? Don't tell her I told you! She'll have my head! - Mx  
  
Don't worry I won't. I find it to be rather funny, albeit a bit weird. - JW  
  
Well, that's Mary for you! - Mx  
  
When a minute passed with no reply from John, Molly pocketed her phone and made her way towards the morgue. She grabbed her clipboard and looked over the files for the bodies she would be processing. Just as she was moving towards the cold storage her phone pinged again.  
  
Sorry it took me so long to respond. I was laughing too hard to conjure up a proper reply. That is definitely a perfect way to describe my wife, thank you for pointing that out to me! She's funny and weird, and I'm a hedgehog, fantastic! - JW  
  
Molly giggled as she returned her mobile to her pocket, thinking to herself that the two of them were definitely perfect for each other.  
  
Later that evening when she returned home, she was surprised to be greeted by the smell of food. Doubting entirely that Sherlock had cooked, she stepped into the kitchen and saw two take-away bags from Angelo’s.  
  
“Sher-oh!” She had been in the process of calling out his name, but found that to not be necessary when he was standing right beside her. The man was like a cat, silent and stealthy, and also conveniently holding a glass of red wine for her. She took it from him and had a sip. “Solved the case then?”  
  
“YES! It wasn’t a murder case, sadly, but Wiggins proved himself to be extremely useful! I-ah-don’t exactly want to admit this, and I will only admit it to you, but without having him with us today, it would have taken me twice as long to solve it!”  
  
Molly raised her eyebrows, following Sherlock into the sitting room where he had set up their dinner at the coffee table. He had even lit candles and a small fire was going.  
  
“What was the case?” she asked him as they sat down on the pillows he had placed on the floor.  
  
“Jewel theft. Diamonds to be exact.” He stabbed several pieces of chicken with his fork and shoved them into his mouth, chewing quite loudly.  
  
She looked at him for a moment then rolled her eyes, wondering how on earth she had decided to bind herself to such a ridiculous man-child! “You’re usually quite good with those, what was so special about this one that Wiggins solved it quicker than you?”  
  
“Ahh yes, well you see—“  
  
She held up her hand, cutting him off. “Finish chewing first, so you don’t choke!”  
  
He did so, and swallowed. “Wiggins had the advantage because he used to steal. He was able to think from the thief’s point of view. Seeing as I don’t steal things, aside from the ash tray I nicked from Buckingham Palace, he had a one-up on me.”  
  
“Oh. Hang on! You took an ash tray from Buckingham bloody Palace?”  
  
“Yep.” He stabbed a couple more pieces of chicken.  
  
She couldn’t help but laugh as she finally settled in to eating her fettuccine.  
  
“Oh! I nearly forgot, Mr. Winebrook gave us these as a gift. Didn’t think it was wise to let Wiggin’s have them, what would he do with them anyway?” Sherlock tugged a small velvet box from his pocket and held it out to her.  
  
She gasped loudly when she opened it. “Oh my God!”  
  
“Do you like them?”  
  
“Well, they are quite a bit different to my usual tastes.” She took out one of the earrings, and held it up, the candlelight causing it to sparkle. “Why didn’t you let John take them home to Mary?”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Why should John get them? Wiggins and I did all the brain work; all he did was tackle the thief to the ground!”  
  
“Sherlock! You really are an utter arse sometimes! You’d be nothing without John and you know it!”  
  
His cheeks flamed slightly. He stared solemnly down at his food. “Well it’s too late to give them to him now, it would just be … awkward.”  
  
She placed the earring back in the box and snapped it shut. “I don’t know when I’d ever get the chance to wear them. Perhaps I’ll just wear them around here …” She set the box down and returned to eating her food.  
  
“In the bedroom?” Sherlock asked suddenly.  
  
She looked at him. “I’ve heard of bedroom shoes, but not bedroom earrings.”  
  
He stared at her blankly.  
  
“If that’s what you want to me do, then all right! I’ll wear them, in the bedroom, and maybe they’ll be the only thing I’m wearing!”  
  
He had taken another bite of chicken and nearly choked. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling, patting his back slightly. He glared at her from his watering eyes.  
  
\---  
  
Three days later Molly was snuggled cozily beneath the sheet and duvet. She was gradually waking up from a nap, due to work the graveyard shift that evening. She ran her hand through her mussed up hair, letting out a loud yawn. She sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes.  
  
Upon exiting the bedroom Toby meowed at her feet as he rubbed up against her legs, nearly tripping her as she began to walk down the hall. The flat was silent. Sherlock had left hours ago on a case and she didn't know if he would come back before she left for work. She sent a glance towards the wall above the sofa, the Wedding Wall, that was now covered in an array of images of the venue, the colour scheme, what she wanted for her bouquet and the bridesmaids as well as a few other things. She shook her head, smiling slightly to herself. The man certainly was dedicated!  
  
She stepped into the kitchen and began to make herself a cuppa. Out of nowhere the feeling came upon her; that same niggling sensation in the back of her mind that had been appearing for some time now. _This isn't what you want. You know that. Do something about it!_ She clenched her hands into fists, breathing in deeply. The voice inside her head was new.  
  
Suddenly the sound of footsteps running up the stairs drew her back to the present. Her eyes flew open; she took another deep breath and unclenched her hands. She forced herself to relax, knowing that if she didn't he would read her distress within seconds. She placed a tea bag in her cup just as Sherlock entered the flat. There was a sound of rustling as he removed his coat and scarf, shortly followed by the soft padding of his feet as he walked towards the kitchen; he must have taken off his shoes.  
  
When he slipped his arms around her from behind, and nuzzled at her neck with his lips, she let out a sigh that sounded wearier than she intended. He put a stop to his kisses and slowly turned her to face him. Molly knew that she should meet his eyes, but couldn't bring herself to do so. He placed the pad of his finger under her chin and tilted her head back. Ever so slowly her eyes rose to meet his. He was gazing upon her with a curious and concerned expression.  
  
"Something's bothering you. Molly, what is it?"  
  
She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's nothing, Sherlock. I'm just being silly. Think nothing of it, please."  
  
His eyes narrowed slightly, not believing her. "Are you sure?"  
  
She placed her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sure."  
  
Sherlock's expression softened. He slipped his hand along her jaw line, before placing it at the back of her neck. "All right. If that's what you want me to do."  
  
"It is."  
  
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a sweet, tender kiss. She moved her arms, draping them over his shoulders as he dropped both of his hands down to her waist, the kiss quickly growing in passion. They didn't pull apart until the kettle began to whistle. Sherlock reached out and turned off the heat, keeping his other arm around her.  
  
"Would you like to join me for a shower in a little while?" she asked him as he poured the hot water into her cup.  
  
He didn't reply until he placed the kettle back down. "Mmm, that sounds very, very inviting." He returned his other arm to around her waist, pulling her a bit closer to him. As her teabag steeped he didn't let go of her, pressing her up against the counter, kissing her passionately.  
  
When they did at last part, so that she could drink her tea, he still didn't let go of her but kept his arm looped around her waist. He was also keeping his mouth preoccupied by placing a trail of kisses up and down the length of her neck. She giggled around the rim of her cup as she took a sip.  
  
"You're in a very nice mood," she said to him, taking another long sip.  
  
"Mmm, I'm happy," he murmured against her skin, nipping at it ever so slightly.  
  
She giggled again, finishing the last bit of her tea before setting down her empty cup. "Well, I'm glad to hear it! I'm happy too." She looped her arms back around him, and he lifted up his head, meeting her gaze. "Shower?" she asked him, a cheeky glint in her eye.  
  
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely.  
  
She ducked out of his embrace and moved into the hall. He was quickly on her heels. She began to pull off her clothes as she made her way towards the bathroom. By the time they had entered it and closed the door behind them, they were both completely naked. He grabbed her, pressing her against the counter, and kissed her deeply.  
  
Molly chuckled against his lips, dropping her hand down between them to give his hardening cock a few pumps with her hand. Sherlock groaned into her mouth. She released him and stepped away, moving towards the shower. He was quickly behind her, wrapping his arms around her, nestling his cock between the cheeks of her bum. She laughed again as they stepped together into the shower, sliding the glass door shut. He was biting and kissing at her neck, his hands roaming over her breasts, pinching her nipples as she reached out to turn on the water. It cascaded down, enveloping them in warmth.  
  
He dropped his hands to her waist, and gave her hips a few taps with his fingers. She knew what he intended. With a low moan she bent at the waist, placing her feet spread apart and flat on the ground. He dragged the head of his cock from her clit to her wet opening. She gasped and mewled loudly as he did this several times before at last entering her, quickly settling into a steady rhythm.  
  
She clutched wildly at the glass doors, desperate to find purchase as he continued to enter her in swift, smooth strokes. His bollocks were slapping against her clit, she wasn’t going to last much longer. She was moaning wildly now, Sherlock panting her name with every thrust. With a loud cry she came, her legs shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t last much longer, pressing himself into her as deeply as he could go, moaning her name over and over.  
  
After a few moments he slipped his arm around her torso and slowly helped her to straighten, cradling her against his chest. She leaned her head back against his shoulder as he mouthed at her neck. When she finally caught her breath she slowly turned herself about to face him.  
  
“Do you think we will ever be able to just shower?” she asked him.  
  
He smirked, crossing his arms over her back. “Nope.”  
  
She shook her head, reaching up to grab the bottle of shampoo. “I really do need to start getting clean; I have to be at Bart’s in a little while.”  
  
He pouted but took the bottle of shampoo from her hands and proceeded to help her wash. Although he more so spent the majority of the time soaping and re-soaping her breasts. By the third time she had had enough.  
  
“Honestly Sherlock!” She swatted his hands away.  
  
“I can’t help it, they’re so delightfully slippery!”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “You are absolutely ridiculous!” She stepped beneath the flow of water to wash off the soap.  
  
\---  
  
Her office was silent, except for the sound of her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. Three more sentences to go and she could print out her report and then proceed on the pile of paperwork that was sat before. It was going to be a long and tedious night. Molly was becoming all too well aware as to why Meena always opted out on taking the graveyard shift!  
  
Forcing back a yawn she hit the print button and waited for the machine behind her to come to life. She rubbed at her eyes, deciding to go to the canteen to get a cup of coffee before starting on the paperwork. The printer finished and she pushed back her chair and stood up. Just as she picked up the freshly printed pieces she heard the door open. Not used to a lot of visitors at this time of night she quickly spun around; only to find Sherlock standing there with a cup of coffee.  
  
“Thought you might be needing this right about now,” he said to her.  
  
She smiled at him and he walked towards her, holding out the coffee. She took it from him, hugging the papers to her chest before standing up on tip toe and pressing her lips to his. “Thank you.”  
  
He smiled down at her. “Paperwork tonight?”  
  
“Yes. Dreary, boring paperwork!” She set the cup down before filing the paper she was holding. “Are you here to do an experiment? I wasn’t planning on being in the lab much tonight.”  
  
Sherlock shook his head. “No.” He held up his laptop. “Thought I’d do some more things for the wedding and I figured, why not do it here with you?” He smiled again.  
  
Molly dropped the file into its drawer. “Ahh. I can’t answer a million questions though, Sherlock. I do have work that I have to get done.” She shut the drawer and returned to her desk, pulling the pile of papers towards her.  
  
He sniffed. “I know. I’ll probably only have a question or two. I’m working on the menu right now, and you still haven’t told me what kind of cake you want!” He grabbed the nearby vacant chair, setting down the laptop on the opposite side of her desk. He would have preferred sitting next to her, but knew that wasn’t possible due to the fact that she liked to spread out the reports she was working on. “Have your interns gotten any better?” he asked her.  
  
She snorted. “If you mean, have they gotten any better at filling out their forms properly, then no. Well some of them have, but the majority no. I swear they seem to just get stupider and stupider. I couldn’t have possibly been that pathetic, could I?”  
  
He looked up at her. “I highly doubt it.”  
  
She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee. “Thank you so much for this; you really do have impeccable timing.”  
  
He returned her smile before bringing his gaze back to his computer screen. An hour passed in comfortable silence. Molly had made her way through half of the pile of papers. Sherlock had stayed silent the entire time, typing away on his laptop.  
  
With a loud yawn she put down her pen and rubbed at her eyes. He got up and walked around to her side of the desk, standing behind her. She looked up at him then let out a moan when he brought his hands to her neck and began to massage the skin there. She closed her eyes, relaxing beneath his touch. He dipped his head down, bringing his mouth directly to her ear.  
  
“Keep making those noises and I’ll be doing more than giving you a neck massage!” he whispered hoarsely to her.  
  
She yelped slightly, as he began to use more pressure. She couldn’t hold back a moan when he hit a knot. Sherlock cursed beneath his breath. She brought her hands up to his, covering them, making him bring his movements to a standstill. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes dark with lust. “Damn you Sherlock!” she all but growled.  
  
He chuckled, pulling her up to her feet. “I’ve wanted to have my way with you against this desk for some time now,” he said, his voice having dropped to a deep timbre.  
  
“Sherlock! I have work I need to get done!”  
  
He was already beginning to unbutton her blouse. “You’ll get it done! Later! There’s hours left to your shift.” As soon as he had her blouse fully unbuttoned he slipped his hands beneath the cups of her bra to scoop out her breasts. He latched his mouth onto one pert nipple, taking the other between his finger tips.  
  
“The door!” She mewled. “It should be locked!”  
  
“Already done,” he murmured against her skin.  
  
She tilted her head back, letting out a whimper as he took the tender bud between his teeth. He dropped his hands down to unfasten her trousers. She blindly undid his, pleased (and not exactly surprised) to find him sans pants. She took his hot and heavy length into her hand. Sherlock groaned, scooping her up in his arms to carry her over to the one empty spot on her desk. He pushed his laptop out of the way and laid her down, her bum resting directly on the edge. He quickly removed her of her shoes, trousers and knickers. She spread her legs, allowing him to nestle between her thighs, the head of his cock rubbing against her slick folds. He grasped himself in his hand and settled the head directly at her entrance and barely slid him self. His trousers were only halfway down his legs, but at the moment he didn’t really care. All he could focus on was the sensation of how tight and wet she was around him. He slowly entered her fully, wanting to take his time, and knowing that if he went faster and harder she would become more vocal.  
  
After several minutes of slow thrusting he lifted both of her legs until they were resting on his shoulders, making her an even tighter fit around him. He groaned loudly, amazed by the sensation.  
  
“Oh fuck!” she whimpered, cupping one breast in her hand and bringing the other down to stroke at her clit.  
  
“Molly!” he gasped out, beginning to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his bollocks slapping against the curves of her arse each time that he entered her.  
  
“That’s it!” she moaned softly, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes as she continued to circle her clit with her fingertip.  
  
He covered her other breast with his hand, massaging the soft flesh. She was moaning uncontrollably now, a sure sign that she was close. Her eyes had fallen shut, and there was a furrow between her brows. Oh yes she was close, so very close, and so was he. He felt her tightening around him, she cried out, her hand dropping away from her clit in order to clutch at the edge of the desk. He gave three more hard thrusts before he joined her.  
  
She was letting out soft whimpers as the aftershocks washed over her. He dropped his head down between her breasts, panting against her skin. She brought her hands to his shoulders. A few moments passed before he eased her legs down. He then leaned forward and kissed her, the pair of them moaning gently as his softening cock shifted inside of her. He slid himself out and she reached for the box of tissues behind her.  
  
A few minutes later they had cleaned themselves up and were once more fully dressed. He was now sat in her chair and she was upon his lap, sharing soft kisses and nuzzles.  
  
“Shagging while at work, Molly? You are so very naughty!” he said to her as he nibbled on her earlobe.  
  
“Yes I am. You must find a way to punish me!” she gasped out.  
  
She felt his growl as much as she heard it, causing her to chuckle. She then stood up, stepping away from him. “That can be saved for later! I really do have work that needs to be completed before my shift is over.”  
  
He sighed slowly, running his hands through his hair. He then too stood up before returning to his chair. He pulled his laptop back over to him, smiling to himself as he brought to mind the image of her laying spread out beneath him.  
  
“Sherlock!” she hissed, her voice cutting through his thoughts.  
  
He shook his head, blinking rapidly. Her cheeks were flaming red; she knew exactly what he had been thinking. He flashed her a toothy grin before tapping one of the keys to pull the computer from its sleep mode.  
  
Molly settled herself back down in her chair, returning to her paperwork, her cheeks still a bright red. Another half hour passed in silence when suddenly the sound of her printer coming to life made her jump. She looked up at Sherlock and he smiled. She rolled her eyes before returning to marking the paper she was working on.  
  
He got up and picked up what he had printed. He stood behind her silently looking them over. “Molly?”  
  
“Mmmm?” she chewed on the top of her pen.  
  
“Would you, ahh, be able to look at these? Just give them a glance at least.”  
  
He stepped so that he was now stood beside her, holding the papers. She pulled the pen from her mouth and looked up at him.  
  
“I guess. If it won’t take too long.”  
  
“It shouldn’t.” He handed her the papers.  
  
She let go of her pen and took them from him. He waited in silence as she looked them over. When she didn’t speak he began to fidget.  
  
“Sherlock … this isn’t just a menu, these are personalized. For everyone that we’ve invited.”  
  
“Obviously!”  
  
She stared up at him, gob smacked. “How can you possibly know everyone’s favourite dinner foods?”  
  
He shrugged. “It’s really not that difficult. I’ve known each of these people for many years now.”  
  
She shook her head, returning her gaze to the papers she was still holding. “You’ve even got Meena down to a tee. How the hell?”  
  
His chest puffed up with pride. “It’s quite simple really—“  
  
She stopped him with the wave of her hand. “Please, save the details for another time. These are fantastic, I’m sure everyone will be very impressed, and flattered. But where’s mine? Don’t I get a menu?” She peered up at him.  
  
He smiled. “Of course you do.” He reached behind him and took the paper he had saved for last, handing it to her.  
  
“You would put that on there, wouldn’t you?”  
  
He smirked. “You order it every time we go to Angelo’s!”  
  
“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to choose!”  
  
He laughed, sitting himself down on the edge of the desk. “Whatever you do choose, you probably won’t eat much of; most brides rarely ever eat anything on their wedding day.”  
  
She looked at him. “And yet they still manage to have enough energy for the wedding night!” She snickered at the expression on his face.  
  
He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “So do you give them your approval?”  
  
“Yes. They’re brilliant. Wonderful job.”  
  
He smiled and leaned forward to place a smacking kiss upon her lips. “Excellent!”  
  
“I don’t know how you found someone who is able and willing to cook all of these different types of meals,” she said to him as he walked back around to his laptop.  
  
“Don’t worry yourself about that. I know someone.”  
  
“Got them off a murder charge? Helped them to put up some shelves?” she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.  
  
He stared at her over his laptop. “No. I rescued his wife from her kidnapper.”  
  
She blinked at him. “Oh.”  
  
“Never read that one on John’s blog did you?”  
  
Her eyebrows met. “No. I don’t recall ever seeing that.”  
  
“That’s because John never wrote it. We were specifically asked not to disclose of what happened.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Sherlock returned his gaze to his screen. Molly watched him for a few moments before returning to her paper work. She hadn’t even known she had drifted off into a daydream when suddenly Sherlock’s voice brought her back to the present.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Cake. Cake, Molly! You haven’t picked a design for a cake, or told me what kind you want. Perhaps I should ask Mycroft though; he’ll be the one eating the most of it.”  
  
She tossed a crumpled piece of paper at his head, it bouncing off of his curls. “Let me have another day or two, I’ll give the internet a perusal.”  
  
“All right.”  
  
He returned to his typing.  
  
_Now, or … never?_  
  
"Sherlock?"  
  
"Mmm?" He didn't look up from his laptop.  
  
"Are you ... are you sure that you want to do this?"  
  
His typing came to an instant standstill. He looked up from the screen, the faint glow making his face appear paler than usual. He blinked several times. "What do you mean?"  
  
Molly took in a slow, steadying breath then moved closer to him. "This." She gestured to the screen of his laptop where he had multiple tabs and word documents open, all that had to do with the wedding. She dropped her gaze to her feet before asking softly, "Are you sure that you want to go through with it?"  
  
Sherlock turned to fully face her. "Molly, do you not want to marry me?"  
  
Her eyes shot up to his face. "NO! That's not what I mean at all!" She rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I'm not talking about the actual marriage; I'm referring to the wedding! You don't think it's too much?"  
  
He was blinking at her again, and the expression on his face was not exactly his ‘Computing Face,’ it was more so ‘Does Not Compute.’ She sighed and stepped away from him, moving to her filing drawer.  
  
A few minutes passed in silence before she at last spoke, “Never mind Sherlock. Forget I ever said anything."  
  
Sherlock blinked rapidly, taking in a breath before opening his mouth. But just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. Molly continued to peer over her paperwork, knowing that she should be paying attention to what the words before her were saying. But she couldn't focus; instead she was listening to Sherlock's conversation.  
  
"You think there might be a connection with the missing woman from last week's case? All right, I'm on my way."  
  
She could hear Sherlock rustling behind her as he pulled on his coat. She didn't turn about until she felt his warmth as he leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"A body washed up on the shore of the Thames and Lestrade needs me to have a look at it. Could you take my laptop home with you?"  
  
She leaned into him as he tilted his head to press his lips to hers for a quick kiss. "All right."  
  
He was about to step away but paused and stared down at her. "Why do you want me to forget what you said?"  
  
She bit down on her bottom lip. "Because it's not important."  
  
He narrowed his eyes. She knew that he was trying to deduce her.  
  
"You should go Sherlock. You have a case to solve." She put her hands on his arms.  
  
He continued to stare down at her for several more moments, before placing another kiss on her cheek. He didn't pull away, brushing the tip of his nose up against her skin. "I always think that whatever you have to say is important, Molly." The vibrations of his voice rumbled against her chest, he then straightened and looked back down at her.  
  
She gave him a small smile and stood up on her tip toes to give him a sweet kiss. "Thank you Sherlock. Now go, I'll see you back at Baker Street." She watched him leave. Once he was gone she slipped her hand into her lab pocket and clasped her fingers around her mobile. She waited another ten minutes, wanting to be certain that Sherlock wouldn’t suddenly make a re-appearance. He was known to do that.  
  
It was time now for her to take drastic measures. This madness had to be stopped, and Molly could think of only one way. Once the ten minutes were up she pulled out her mobile and went into her contacts. She found the person she wanted and fired off a quick text.  
  
I need to see you. It's about Sherlock. - Mx  
  
A reply was sent back swiftly.  
  
There will be a car waiting for you outside at the end of your shift. – MH  
  
Thank you. – Mx  
  
The last two hours dragged slowly, but eventfully her shift was over. After gathering up her things she made her way outside. A sleek black car awaited her. She slid onto the smooth leather seat and made herself comfortable.  
  
She knew that Sherlock would be furious if he knew what she was doing, but she felt that she had no choice. She had tried to reason with herself, and had wanted to, attempted to get him to understand, but none of her words seemed to seep into that brilliant (yet at sometimes rather dense) mind of his.  
  
A little while later the car pulled up outside of the Diogenes Club. Before Molly even had a chance to move towards the door it opened and Mycroft slid in beside her. He turned to her with a warm smile.  
  
"I thought that perhaps we could have tea together. It has been quite a long while since we've done so. And I know that you have yet to have your breakfast."  
  
Molly couldn't help but let her smile mimic his. "I'd like that. It has been too long."  
  
He settled himself comfortably against the cushions. And that was when she noticed something about him was a bit off, she then realized what it was, something was missing!  
  
"Has your brolly gone on holiday?" she asked him.  
  
He couldn't hold back his smile. "My dear, as you very well know, I keep my umbrella on my person to intimidate people. And because I am aware of the fact that you are in no way intimidated by me, I saw no reason to bring it."  
  
She chuckled, leaning back into the cushions as well. Several minutes passed in silence before Mycroft turned to her.  
  
"What has my brother gone and done now?" he asked, with a quirk of his eyebrow.  
  
Molly let out a weary sigh. "What hasn't he done is more so the correct question."  
  
"Ahh. I think we need to wait and not continue this conversation until we have tea and cake before us."  
  
"Yes, that would seem wise."  
  
A comfortable silence fell between them until the car arrived outside of The Ritz. Upon entering the hotel they were quickly brought to their usual table; set apart from the others where they could easily bask in silence. Within minutes they had their tea and a large variety of pastries (being the British Government certainly had its advantages!).  
  
Molly took a sip, reveling in the warmth and deliciousness. Mycroft had already helped himself to several of the small cakes.  
  
"Well now Molly, the conversation may continue." Mycroft took a large bite of the cake he was holding, his eyes closing in pleasure.  
  
Molly was surprised that she didn't hear him moan. She nibbled on a pastry, wondering how to begin.  
  
"As you are well aware, after Sherlock asked me to marry him he became quite exuberant about planning our wedding. I never would have expected him to be so enthusiastic about it. Hadn't he said that weddings weren't really his thing? Anyway, to cut a very long, exhausting story short: I can't take it anymore. I want him to stop. I need him to stop. He is planning something that I know deep down he doesn't want. And the more that he’s planned, the more ideas that he’s come up with, I have come to realize that I don't want it either. Please Mycroft, use whatever power you have over him and put an end to this ridiculousness!"  
  
Mycroft set down his cake and gave her a long look. "Molly, if you have tried to tell him yourself, which I am quite certain you have, why do you think that he would listen to me? He never listens to me!"  
  
Molly finished the pastry she had been nibbling on. "I haven’t exactly told him. Not straight out. I don’t know how. He’s put so much time and effort into all of this, I feel awful telling him that it’s been all for naught. Especially since I keep saying to him that he needs to let me know things, so much for practicing what you preach. Here I am unable to bring myself to tell him that I don’t want the wedding that he’s planning. What a hypocrite.”  
  
Mycroft stared at her for a moment. “What is it that you really want then, Molly?”  
  
She took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out before launching off into the explanation of the type of wedding she really, truly wanted. When she finished Mycroft grew silent. It quickly became clear to her that he was thinking deeply; he had yet to pick up his half-eaten cake! Molly drank the rest of her tea and poured herself another cup, picking up another pastry. Mycroft still hadn't spoken. Apparently that was a common trait amongst the Holmes brothers, although she hadn't noticed Sherrinford doing that; she supposed that this was possibly because she had only seen him for a short while.  
  
Suddenly Mycroft picked up his cake and finished it in two bites. He then turned to her with an exuberant smile upon his face. It made her wish that he did this more often, he looked so pleasant when he smiled, younger too.  
  
"I think I have conjured a plan!” he told her. He then tilted his head to the side. “It will though, require some help from your friends." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> Hehe! Not such a nasty cliffhanger as my usual eh?
> 
> And that bit with Wiggins in the beginning (did no one honestly expect it to be him?!) I came up with that in February when I was looking up bridal quotes to write in my Aunt's wedding card ;) "Soon-to-be Missus!" Ha ha! :D
> 
> Lilsherlockian1975, did you enjoy the bit about Mycroft's brolly? HEHE!


	33. Some Help from Your Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh what's this? An update?!
> 
> Terribly sorry for the long wait, I actually had this completed on the 12th but never got the chance to sit down and give it a once over.
> 
> I struggled with this chapter a bit and it took an entirely different turn then I expected.
> 
> Oh, and due to the fact that WayTooEasilyObssessed on here had a bit of a mishap while reading my previous chapter (so sorry my dear!), I have deemed it necessary to place a warning before each chapter, hence:
> 
> "HILARITY EMINENT, READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL!" ... i.e. I'd avoid hot drinks while reading, perhaps cold ones too.
> 
> I never know for certain what others will find funny, usually what I do find to be funny, other's don't :-P So, when it comes to my writing and I come up with an idea that has me cackling, I am never certain if others will find it as hilarious as I do, so yeah ... READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL! ... heh ... Enjoy ;)

_"It will though, require some help from your friends."_

Mycroft's words buzzed about Molly's head as she made her way back to Baker Street, feeling quite exhausted. Exhausted, and yet also humming with both excitement and nervousness. Mycroft had assured her that all would be taken care of, and she believed in him. If the British Government couldn't solve this slight predicament then she feared no one could. She had a part to play, and she was going to play it as if she were in the West End. A snort erupted from her, causing the cab driver to send her a glance in the mirror. She blushed and quickly took out her phone to distract herself.

Upon arriving at Baker Street she climbed the stairs wearily, letting out a breath of relief when she entered a quiet, empty flat. That is of course except for Toby, who ran to her meowing happily in greeting. She picked up the cat and held him close, reveling in the sensation of his purr. She smiled before placing a kiss upon his head and putting him down. Toby meowed again and Molly knew that he was asking for food. After giving him what he wanted she strode down the hall towards the bedroom and quickly stripped out of her clothes, before putting on a nearby t-shirt and slipping beneath the sheets. Letting out a happy sigh she snuggled down into the mattress, breathing in the scent of Sherlock. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Several hours passed in blissful quiet. It was nearing late-afternoon now, and she was still fast asleep curled up beneath the sheet and duvet. That is until suddenly Sherlock launched himself onto the bed, shocking her awake. He laid his body over her own and began pressing kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and nose as he pushed away the covers.

"Sherlock!" she shrieked. "Sherlock stop! Your hands-ahh!-your hands are freezing!" She couldn't keep from giggling as he continued to pepper her face with kisses, whilst slipping his hands beneath her t-shirt (which was in fact one of his own).

"I'm trying to warm them Molly! Body heat is the best way to do so. And seeing as you are so conveniently placed beneath me, and you are so soft and warm ..." his sentence trailed off as his fingers reached the underside of her breasts.

She whimpered as the chill of his skin brushing against her caused her nipples to pebble. "Sher-"

He cut off his name by pressing his lips to hers. She grabbed a hold of him, pulling him down closer to her, so that the kiss could be deepened. He gently squeezed her breasts, and she mewled into his mouth, arching up into him. But that was when she realized something.

"You haven't even taken your coat off!" she exclaimed after she had pulled away from him.

He scoffed and reared back, slipping his hands out from her shirt. He quickly removed the offending fabric, tossing it towards a nearby chair where it managed to perfectly drape itself. "Better?" he asked when he turned about to face her once more.

"Well ... it's just - you've been out on a case. I don't know where you've been, what you've been doing, what could be on your coat, this is our bed Sherlock! I'd very much prefer to keep it specimen free!"

He rolled his eyes. "It was only a six Molly, the drowned woman had no connection to last week's case, and it didn't involve any 'specimens,' our bed is perfectly safe, it has not been contaminated." He stretched himself out over her, returning to their previous position. "Now ... where was I? Oh yes! Warming my hands!" He slipped his fingers beneath her t-shirt but instead of returning them to her breasts he began to tickle her sides, exactly where she was most sensitive; right below her rib cage. She began to squirm beneath him.

"Sher-AHH!-Sherlock cut it out!-you're going to make me pee!" she gasped out between giggles.

He chuckled as he pulled his hands away from her. Molly collapsed against the pillows, trying to catch her breath.

"Bloody git," she muttered.

He smirked then moved to nuzzle at her neck.

"What's gotten into you? Yes, you usually are quite euphoric when you come home after solving a case, but this one was only a six? Not very thrilling," she said to him, still slightly breathless.

He drew back, a wide grin coming to his lips. "It's not about the case Molly, that's not why I'm so happy."

She frowned, her brows knitting together. "Then what is it?"

He continued to smile. "Us. Me and you. You and I. We're getting married!"

She blinked at him. "Just figured that out, have you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

He sighed wearily. "Hilarious Molly, how many times do I need to remind you not to joke?"

She gave him a withering glance, and he quailed slightly.

"We're getting married in a month!" he declared.

Molly's eyes grew to a nearly comical size. "So soon? Oh my God, I've been so busy at work recently, I've hardly paid attention to what day it is!"

Sherlock pouted.

"Oh stop it! You know that's true, Bart's has been short one pathologist for three weeks now!"

He sighed but accepted her explanation, dropping himself down beside her before pulling her close up against him.

She smiled at him as she traced her finger tip along his cupid's bow. "Only a month. Wow."

He smiled as well. "Wish it was tomorrow."

She let out a soft huff of air. "We could have just eloped, gotten married straight away instead of waiting."

A beat passed.

"Yesss. That does seem like it would be more my style, mmm?"

Her eyes, which had been fixed on his lips, shot up to meet his gaze. "Does it?" she asked him.

He blinked a few times. "The truth is, I don't honestly know." He smirked slightly at the look of surprise upon her face. "Yes ... how shocking, the Great Sherlock Holmes not knowing something!"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course you had to throw in a bit of ego boost."

He leaned forward so that he could nip at her earlobe. "You are well aware of my methods."

She giggled. "Twat!"

He drew back. "I mean it Molly. I don't know. I never considered the possibility, I always thought of myself as being married to my work. Being married to another human being was not something I ever contemplated. Until now."

She placed a kiss on his chin, the only part of his face that she could easily reach. He shifted so that they were at level with each other.

"I won't be taking anymore cases," he stated.

Molly was a bit surprised by this admission. "Why?"

"Because the wedding is so close! I need to make sure that everything is as it should be, and -"

She put her hand over his mouth. "Sherlock don't. You nearly drove yourself mad the last time, as well as John ... that isn't necessary!" She dropped her hand away.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Fine. I won't though accept any cases that take me out of London, not even if they are a ten."

She let out a slow breath. "Ok, that's fine. You need to keep yourself occupied, I don't need you attempting to blow up the flat, or poisoning Toby just because you're bored!"

Sherlock pouted. "I wouldn't poison Toby, perhaps dye his fur, but not poison him! I know how important he is to you."

She fixed upon him a stern gaze. "Dye Toby's fur and you'll be sleeping on the sofa!"

He blanched. "It wouldn't be permanent."

"SHERLOCK!"

He returned to pouting. "Fine, I won't touch your cat."

"You better not! I can't believe that you've even considered it, especially after what happened the last time you experimented on something of mine."

He swallowed, remembering all too well how angry she had been. Molly snuggled down into the pillow, staring at the wall, directly over Sherlock's shoulder.

"You had tea with Mycroft," he declared suddenly.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that it would be impossible to keep anything fully from him. "Yes. Smell the cake on my breath?"

He sniffed. "No. You've slept an hour less than you normally would if you came home at your usual time."

"O...k. But that doesn't explain how you knew that I had tea with Mycroft."

Sherlock smiled and tilted his head to the side before leaning forward and dragging the tip of his tongue across the corner of her lip. "Strawberry jam."

Molly brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oh God, has that been there all this time?" Her cheeks were flushed a faint pink.

He chuckled. "Don't be embarrassed, it wasn't noticeable. At least not to anyone but me."

She grumbled only making him laugh all the more. She pushed him onto his back, straddling him and he peered up at her expectantly.

"So ... tea with Mycroft, what brought that on? I'm sure it was terribly boring," he drawled.

Molly tweaked at Sherlock's nipples through his shirt, causing him to yelp. "It was not boring! Mycroft is in fact a very interesting person to be with. You are just too pompous and focused on your pathetic feud with him to ever pay attention."

"You're avoiding answering the question-AHH!"

She had given his nipples another tweak. "No I'm not. I'm merely sticking up for him. Mycroft took me out to tea because it's been a very long time since he's done so."

Sherlock frowned, his brows knitting together. "Ahh yes, the two of you did that quite often ... while I was  _away_."

"Yes. It's become a rather nice tradition."

He let out a snort.

"You really are horrible," Molly chastised him.

"It's best you realize that now, then after we're married."

She was about to give his nipples yet another tweak when he grabbed her hands and quickly flipped her over into her back so that he was the one straddling her. She laughed as he pressed her hands down into the mattress.

"I do rather enjoy annoying you," she said with a giggle.

His eyes narrowed and he let out a low growl. "And you call me the horrible one."

She laughed again, which he quickly silenced with a kiss. They did not surface from the bedroom until much later that evening.

* * *

Several days later Molly had miraculously been given time off. She was spending it being as blissfully lazy as she could possibly be. She had hardly moved from the sofa, switching from watching telly to fiddling around on her tablet.

She had just finished off a couple of Jaffa cakes and a cup of tea when she came upon something rather interesting. She moved to her feet and strode into the kitchen where Sherlock was sat in front of his microscope.

He had been out earlier that morning helping Lestrade with a burglary. Sherlock had barely been gone an hour before he returned home, griping about the inability of the Yard and their 'minions' as he had referred to them. Molly allowed him to fume for several minutes, and when he reached the end of his tirade he had flopped down into his chair. She popped a kiss onto the top of his head and handed him a cup of tea which he gratefully took. A short while later his strop was over. He had donned his dressing gown, and was now puttering about in the kitchen working on an experiment.

She walked over, watching him for a moment. "Sherlock?"

"Mmm? Yes?" He leaned closer to his microscope, turning the focuser.

"Did you know about this?" She held up her tablet.

He glanced away from the microscope, taking in what she was showing him. "Oh. Found that did you?"

Her hand holding the tablet dropped to her side. "You  _did_  know about it? Why didn't you tell me?"

He turned back to his microscope. "I was concerned it would upset you." He side-eyed her. "Cleary I was correct."

She let out a breath. "I'm not upset, per se; it's just a bit ... weird."

He spun around to fully face her. "Hence the reason why I didn't tell you. Mycroft has been keeping a close eye on it. The first sign of anything personal being posted and they will be shut down."

"You wouldn't consider the entire thing a bit personal?" She stared down at her tablet, scrolling.

His entire hand covered the screen. "What they are posting and talking about is publicly known. Nothing private has been mentioned. That's the only reason why I am allowing it to continue."

"Well, they do seem to know quite a lot about us. Oh my God, its Anderson isn't it?"

Sherlock smiled. "Excellent deduction." He kissed her cheek.

"First 'The Empty Hearse' club, and now this, 'The Good Ship Sherlolly-pop.' Hmmm ... isn't that a Shirley Temple song?"

He stared at her blankly.

"Yeah it is! 'The Good Ship Lollipop!'" She laughed. "That's kind of cute."

"Banal. This is Anderson we're speaking of."

She gave Sherlock's arm a light swat. "Sherlolly. I like it, a mash-up of our names!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Aww, fans of us call themselves Sherlollians!"

He let out a snort of disgust. "I understand many things, but social media and the general public's obsession with celebrities will never be one of them."

Molly stopped her scrolling and looked up at him. "Are you calling yourself a celebrity?"

He straightened his posture ever so slightly. "To the eyes of some that is what I appear to be."

She giggled before putting down her tablet and draping her arms over his shoulders. His arms slipped around her waist automatically. She was smiling. "My Celebrity Consulting Detective. What an honour it is to be marrying you!"

He rolled his eyes once more. "If anyone should be honoured, it's me." His gaze fell onto the tablet. "How did you manage to find that horrific drivel?"

"Meena. She has a tumblr and happened to come across it. She thought it was rather funny, and now she's an avid follower."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, don't worry! She doesn't have anything personal posted on her tumblr; Anderson will never know it's her. And don't you dare think for one second that she'll tell him anything!"

It took a minute or so for Sherlock's expression to soften. "Well, if you trust her, than I suppose I must."

Molly took a step closer to him, nuzzling at his cheek. "I always thought that if I ever got the chance to sleep with a celebrity I would end up being disappointed. I'm so glad you've proven me wrong!"

He sniffed, before giving her pulse point a non-too-tender bite. "You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

"NOPE!"

He sighed when she popped the 'p' before proceeding to scowl at her as she laughed.

"Irritating you is just too much fun!" she told him.

"Yes, you seem to be making a habit of it." He gave her a look then began to smile cheekily. "I prefer it when you're trying to do something else." He pulled her in between his legs, pressing the palms of his hands to her bum so that she became molded against him.

She let out a slight squeak when she felt his arousal. "Sherlock no! I just started my period!"

He sighed and loosened his hold ever so slightly. "I don't know why you're so against it."

She frowned. "Because I feel gross when I'm menstruating. I'm bloated and I'm always sweating and I'm bleeding and that smells and I just feel entirely unsexy!"

He ran his hands up and down her sides. "Well you still look sexy to me, not to mention the slight increase in weight and size of your breasts. Also ... the uncanny knack that they become increasingly sensitive." As if to demonstrate he dipped his head down and mouthed at the pebbled nipple that had appeared beneath her t-shirt. He really did enjoy how she went without a bra whenever they were at home. She moaned as he pushed up her shirt so that he could suckle on her breasts without any barrier.

"Oh God, Sherlock!" she panted out.

He pressed the heel of his palm against the apex between her thighs. She whimpered as she rocked herself up against him. The combination of his hand and mouth on her had her crying out within minutes. He gave each of her breasts a tiny nibble before raising his head and pulling his hand away. She was panting heavily, her cheeks flushed, her eyes fully dilated. He was about to speak when she placed her finger against his lips. With a saucy smirk she dropped her hands to his waist and gave him a tug forward.

He swallowed as she kneeled before him, undoing the button and zip of his trousers in order to slip out his hard, aching cock. He groaned as she took him directly into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head, before hollowing out her cheeks to take him in deeper. After a few minutes she slipped her hand into his trousers in order to cup and caress his bollocks. She started to hum, and that was it, he was done for. With a shout of her name he emptied himself down her throat. She licked him clean before allowing his softening penis to slip from her mouth. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. He let out a shaky breath, realizing that he had been clutching at the edge of the table. Loosening his hold, he took her hands and helped her to her feet.

"Better?" she asked him.

He made a noise of approval. "It's not sex ... but it's ... something."

She smiled before placing a kiss at the base of his throat as she gently tucked him back away in his trousers. When she was finished he pulled her close up against him. She slipped her arms about his waist, leaning into his embrace.

"What are you working on?" she asked him.

"Ahh, I'm studying the decomposition of several different fibers, seeing how long they take to break down when exposed to water for a long period of time."

Molly turned herself a bit to look at the slide that Sherlock took out from the microscope.

"This is polyester," he explained to her.

"Found anything good?"

"Not yet. But I'm certain there will be something," he set the slide back down.

"Does this have to do with the drowning case from a few days ago?"

He nodded. "Yes it does."

She tilted her head to nibble at her throat. "Shall I leave it to you then?"

"You can help if you like."

"Mmm, loved to!"

He smiled before giving her a kiss.

* * *

A week later Molly received a text from Mycroft.

A car will be waiting for you outside St. Barts after your shift. We have things to discuss. - MH

Molly sent back a reply before quickly deleting the messages. She finished dressing then stepped out into the hall. "Sherlock?" she called out.

"Yes? I'm in the kitchen!" he replied.

She padded down the hall and found Sherlock once more sitting at the table, this time with a few beakers. He was using an eye dropper to add some sort of green liquid to a pale yellow liquid that was in one of the beakers. Knowing that it would be the better choice to not ask him what he was doing, she refrained and sidled up alongside of him. "Meena asked me to join her for a few drinks tonight after work. Do you mind?"

He set down the eye dropper before answering her. "No, not at all. I have plenty to occupy myself with."

She smiled. "Good." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away. "I'll see you later then, there's some leftover chicken from last night that you can have for dinner if you like."

He grunted, swirling the two liquids in the beaker. She rolled her eyes and went to put on her shoes. "Try not to forget to at least eat something, please?" she said to him as she walked back into the kitchen.

He nodded but didn't verbally reply; he was holding the eye dropper again and was adding more green liquid to the other liquid that was now an odd sort of brown. Molly wrinkled her nose, thankful that it at least didn't smell.

"Well, I'm off!" she announced.

He continued to look at the liquids.

"I'm also naked."

His head turned so quickly to look at her that she was shocked she didn't hear a snap.

She laughed. "Guess that's one way to get your attention!"

He humphed, setting down the beaker before standing up and walking over to her. "Don't drink too much tonight."

"I won't. I know the exact calculation to stay in the sweet spot."

He gave her a black look, making her laugh again.

"See you later tonight." She stood on tiptoe, offering her mouth up for a kiss.

He placed one hand on her waist, to hold her steady, as he kissed her deeply. The kiss quickly grew in passion, which seemed to happen rather frequently. With a quiet chuckle, Molly gently pushed him away. He sighed before returning to his experiment. She left the flat with flushed cheeks and a racing heart.

Eight hours later Molly was settling back into the lush cushions of one of Mycroft's many cars, as she was taken to the Diogenes Club. Upon arriving she was ushered into his office by his blackberry-wielding PA, Anthea. They had never talked much, merely exchanged a few smiles. Molly settled herself down into the chair in front of Mycroft's desk, and waited for him. A few minutes later he strode in.

"Do forgive me for the delay, had to put a stop to a war," he drawled out.

Not knowing if he was merely trying to be funny, she decided it would be best not to reply at all. He settled himself down into his chair, giving her a warm smile.

"What is it that we need to discuss?" she queried.

Before he could answer her the door opened and Anthea walked in pushing a tea trolley. She poured them each a cup, and placed a small plate of chocolate biscuits on his desk. Mycroft's smiled widened as he took up a biscuit. "Thank you, Anthea," he said to her.

She answered with a slight tilt of her head then left the room. Mycroft cleared his throat before taking a bite. Molly took a sip of her tea, waiting patiently for his explanation. He did so, once he had finished his biscuit.

"What we need to discuss is the case that Sherlock will be offered to distract him."

She sat up a bit straighter. "So you've found one then?"

"Yes. And this is where the help of your friends come into play."

"Oh?" she took another sip of her tea.

"Scotland Yard."

"Oooohhh! Oh yes. Lestrade."

"It needs to come directly from him, otherwise Sherlock will be suspicious. Remember, I don't want it to appear that I have any connection to this."

Molly nodded. "Yeah, all right. So why don't you just tell him then?"

Mycroft sighed and set down his tea cup. "Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to him? Explained it all?" he said to her, in what she could only assume was supposed to be a pleading tone. It wasn't.

She crossed her arms over chest. "Why should I do that? This part is your plan, not mine!"

He let out a breath. "I have only spoken with Detective Inspector Lestrade once before, and that was not during the best of times."

She let out a laugh. "Are you worried that he won't believe you?"

Mycroft didn't answer her.

She huffed. "Fine. I'll be there, to verify whatever it is that you're going to tell him! I don't even know what it is that you will be telling him. Is it really a case that you have for Sherlock? It's not just something made up?"

Mycroft smirked. "Sherlock would smell a ruse instantly. It has to be real." His expression softened. "Don't worry Molly, something has very conveniently showed up. And - thank you. Detective Inspector Lestrade is your friend, not mine. Having you there to validate puts me at ease."

Her eyes widened. "Who knew that the British government could get nervous?"

He rolled his eyes but she could see that he was fighting back a smile.

"How's Anthea?"

He blanched. "What do you mean?"

Molly smiled. "I may not have you or your brother's grand skills of deduction, but I'm not blind. She's a bit more than a PA, isn't she?"

He swallowed, but knew it was useless to prolong keeping it from Molly. "She's my wife."

Her smile widened. "Thought so. How long?"

"Shortly after Sherlock left to dismantle Moriarty's web."

She laughed softly. "So you've had a goldfish all this time."

Mycroft sniffed. "She's quite a bit more than a goldfish!"

Molly continued to smile. "Do you think Sherlock knows?"

"Of course he does, he's a Holmes! But thanks to, I am certain your influence, he has kept mum about it."

"Do you not want anyone to know?"

Mycroft slowly exhaled. "Due to my seat in the British government, it's best to keep it under wraps."

"Mmm ... don't want it to get out that you've been shagging your PA?" Molly fought back another smile as his cheeks became tinged a faint pink.

He swallowed. "Mummy knows, and she's quite pleased."

"And you are too; you've managed to one-up your brother! That's not a common occurrence."

"Well, I am the eldest; it would only be fitting for me to be married before he is."

She chuckled. "Mycroft Holmes, the married man. Not something I ever expected to say!"

He smiled. "Yes well, you will soon be a married woman yourself! And to my brother no less, I can truly say that I never thought that would happen. My brother is a stubborn man, as I am sure you are aware, and I feared that he would never allow himself to admit his feelings for you. I'm so glad that he did."

"So am I."

They shared a smile before quietly finishing their tea.

"I could text Greg now, see if he's available? I told Sherlock I was meeting Meena for drinks, so I have a few hours."

Mycroft nodded and she took out her mobile. A short while later they were at the NSY.

"You do realize this is not my division?"

Mycroft refrained from rolling his eyes. "It doesn't matter. You should be pleased, you've been granted access to information that has been kept classified for nearly twenty years."

Lestrade shifted, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. "Yes, remind me why that is, again? Refresh my memory."

Mycroft sighed then fixed upon his face what he hoped was a genial smile. "For Molly," he shifted his gaze towards her, she smiled and he returned to looking at Lestrade. "And for Sherlock as well, but mostly for Molly. Sherlock needs to be taken out of London for this plan to fully work, at the most a far corner of it. With the date of his impending nuptials being very near, he will not be likely to want to leave Baker Street. Only a case of the highest ... number ... will draw him out. This is a twelve."

Lestrade's eyes widened. "And this is actually real, it's not made up?"

Mycroft fixed upon him a withering look. "To convince Sherlock Holmes, it has to be real. Ganton Hughes has been under heavy government surveillance, but it is only recently that he has been brought back into our radar."

"How convenient."

"Yes. It is time that he is brought to justice."

Lestrade leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why is it that he has been allowed to wander free all these years?"

Mycroft straightened his brolly, placing one hand over the other. "As an alternative for being imprisoned he was offered an opportunity to be our inside man; he became our number one link to a string of drug smugglers. And it is thanks to him that many arrests have been made. But now he is beginning to take advantage of his status, his reign must come to an end."

"And you need Sherlock to sniff him out?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes. Ganton has managed to outsmart three of MI6's best agents."

Lestrade had the audacity to look impressed. "So you think Sherlock can do what an MI6 agent can't?"

Mycroft's smile widened. "Yes. This needs to stay hush-hush for the time being though. I'll be in touch, to inform you of when to lay the bait, it should be in a few days time. Perhaps sooner." He stood and turned to Molly. "Would you like me to drive you home?"

"No that's all right. Thanks though, I'll just get a cab."

With a nod Mycroft strode from Lestrade's office.

"Bloody hell that is one intimidating man."

Molly snorted. "You should see him in the presence of his mother. Either that or when he and Sherlock are playing  _Operation_."

Lestrade smiled. "So you're really going to go through with all of this? Quite elaborate!"

"Yeah well, he's Sherlock. It has to be."

He made a noise of agreement. After they talked for a little bit longer Molly left. Once she got outside she took out her mobile and sent a text to Meena.

Fancy meeting me up for a drink? I kind of need it for a cover. - Mx

Yes! And what the hell are you on about? - Mn

I'll explain over a pint. - Mx

She hailed a cab and made her way to a pub not too far from Baker Street. Meena met up with her a few minutes later.

"I already ordered myself fish and chips, I didn't order for you though, not sure if you wanted anything," Molly said to her.

"Mmm, not really hungry. I will definitely have a pint though! Now spill! What's this about needing a cover? Are you doing something behind Sherlock's back? Because if you are, that's very brave of you, to try and pull the wool over that man's eyes - I wouldn't dare attempt it!"

Molly kept silent until their pints were placed before them. She took a quick sip before delving into explaining the plan that she and Mycroft had devised. Two hours later she was stumbling up the stairs to 221B.

"So much for the sweet spot!" she grumbled to herself, regretting that last pint.

The door swung open just as she reached it, revealing Sherlock to her.

"Sheerrlloooocccckkk!" she sang out, smiling goofily.

He shook his head, smiling slightly as he slipped his arm around her and pulled her into the flat. "Aspirin, water, and then bed," he listed out to her as he led her down the hall.

"Oh bed? Are you - joinnnning me?"

He chuckled. "Of course." He eased her down onto the mattress. "Stay here." He left the room.

She flopped onto her back, groaning slightly as she kicked off her shoes. Sherlock returned with a glass of water and two pills in his hand. Once she had swallowed and drank he began to help her out of her clothes.

"Shouldn't you be taking yours off as well?" she asked him, smiling cheekily as she tugged off her bra, not bothering to undo the clasps.

With another chuckle he pulled off his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, leaving them both in their pants. "All right, under the covers now!" he told her.

She let out a contented sigh as she slipped beneath the cool sheets. She let out another sigh when Sherlock joined her beneath the sheets, pulling her close up against him. She snuggled into his chest, and within minutes she was snoring softly.

The next morning Molly woke with a groan. Her head didn't hurt but her mouth felt as if she had eaten one of Toby's fur balls. She rolled over onto her back, squinting at the ceiling.

"Take a shower Molly, you'll feel better!" Sherlock suddenly called out, his voice drifting in from the hallway.

Her mind was too fuzzy to even attempt to contemplate how he had been able to sense that she was awake, so instead she sat up, letting out another groan. He was right though, she did feel a lot better once she had showered.

Sherlock greeted her in the kitchen with a cup of strong tea. She thanked him with a kiss, noting that he had made her toast as well. A few minutes later, after have eaten and drank her tea she began to feel more her normal, cheery self. That is until she looked out the window and took note of the weather. Now she was scowling. Sherlock was sat in his chair, tapping away at his laptop.

"Please stop sighing, it's rather distracting."

She spun about, facing him. "Sorry. I just don't like having to go to work in the rain, it's rather annoying."

His hands grew still, and he turned to look at her. "Take a cab. I'll call one for you. You shouldn't bother with the tube today."

She stared down at him for a moment. "All-all right."

He smiled, and she smiled back.

An hour later Molly was in the morgue, comfortably dry. She very rarely took a cab directly from one place to another, more often than not she would take a cab to and from the tube; it was cheaper that way. But Sherlock had been insistent that she not do so today, and she was grateful for it. The morgue was a chilly place, and being damp from having to walk through the rain was not a good combination. She was more than grateful.

After pulling on a pair of gloves and mentally prepping herself for cutting into the man's chest that lay before her, she set to work. After a few minutes she stopped to check if she had gone deep enough.

A deep voice suddenly broke through the quiet of the room. "Do you know what today is?"

Molly jumped, letting out a shriek as she spun about. "Sherlock! Terrible idea to sneak up on me while I'm holding a bone saw!"  
He ignored her annoyance and repeated his question.

She sighed, removing her protective eyewear. "No. What's today?"

He frowned. "Two weeks until our wedding!"

Her eyes widened. "Is it? Oh wow!"

"Yes! I was expecting you to say something this morning ... but you were rather preoccupied with having a strop over the weather."

She sniffed, setting down the saw and snapping off her gloves before tossing them into the nearby bin.

He was smiling now. "In two week's time you will be my wife." He took a step closer to her, being careful to not brush his Belstaff against her bloodied lab coat. "And I will be your husband." He tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips gently to hers.  
She sighed into the kiss. "And I'm quite certain you are the only groom that has every single aspect of the wedding taken care of."

His chest puffed with pride. "You are correct. I checked on everything after you left, and all is in order! Except ahhh - the venue."

Molly leaned back. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "There appears to be some sort of misunderstanding. It's just a slight hiccup. Mycroft will fix it. The British Government needs to just use a few choice words and all will be well." Sherlock smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Molly decided that perhaps this would be her one last opportunity to get through to him. "We don't have to get married at Wakehurst Mansion. We could have the wedding somewhere else ..."

Sherlock's smile turned into a frown. "But you said that you wanted the wedding there?"

Molly placed her hand on the lapel of his suit jacket. "The place is rather posh, not entirely in mine or your taste. Perhaps the hiccup is a good thing?"

He fixed upon her a strong gaze. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

She sighed, having been afraid of this. "I'm not trying to telling you that I don't want to marry you! I want to be married to you Sherlock! Why do you keep automatically jumping to that conclusion?"

He had the look about him of a scolded child.

"I've never once told you to stop planning; I've never given you any inclination that I didn't want to be your wife. Why then is it that that is always the first thing that you assume?"

He sighed before giving the shoulders of her lab coat a slight tug. Molly, understanding him, quickly shrug out of it and draped it over the nearby stool. He put his arms around her and hid his face in her neck. She slowly put her own arms around him, holding him close.

"Why are you so afraid, Sherlock?" she asked softly. She felt a shudder run through his body. She brought up one of her hands and placed it in his hair, caressing the curls just the way that he liked.

"I'm not afraid," he stated firmly.

"Yes you are, and there's nothing wrong with that." She leaned back, forcing him to do the same so that she could cup the side of his face in her hand. His eyes wouldn't meet hers. "Sherlock ... do you not want to marry me? Because if that's it, then please, say something. Don't do this just to make me happy, this has to be a mutual agreement."

He continued to stare down at the floor.

"Sherlock, please."

He swallowed. "Can we-can we not discuss this here?"

"That's fine. We don't have to, it can wait. But we need to talk about this. Tonight? When I get home?"

After a few moments he nodded. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek and he leaned into her.

"I'll stop on my way back and get some take away, Thai perhaps."

"No," he said, "I'll do it."

"All right."

He turned his head so that he could press his lips to hers, very gently.

"See you tonight?" she asked him, and he nodded.

Once Sherlock left, Molly stood alongside the autopsy table for several minutes taking in deep breaths, and slowly letting them out. She didn't know what exactly to expect tonight, and it frightened her. But she loved him, and she knew that he loved her. With this in mind, she returned to her work.

When Molly left Bart's she was pleased to find that it was no longer raining, thus making her opt for the tube home. Upon arriving outside Baker Street she stopped for a moment looked upwards. She could see that the lights were on in their flat, but that the curtains were drawn. She could also hear Sherlock playing. Molly closed her eyes and stood there for several moments, listening. The song that he was playing was unfamiliar to her. It suddenly and abruptly ended. Her breath hitched in her throat, she opened her eyes and stepped up to the door.

She quickly walked inside, noting that Mrs. Hudson must have been out due to the fact that she hadn't come to greet her as she was often wont to do. Molly quickly climbed the stairs, trying her best to prepare herself for whatever was going to come of this night. Sherlock greeted her at the door, his violin having been tucked away back in its case. He kissed her hello, in his normal fashion. The smell of food reached her as she took off her coat and scarf and hung it up by his.

"Dinner is laid out in the kitchen," he explained to her.

"Ok. Good." She hesitated, unsure of what to do. She hated this feeling.

"Molly."

"Sherlock."

They had spoken at the same time.

He stepped closer to her, placing his hand on her arm. She slowly looked up at him.

"Molly, I am well aware that I don't do well with these sorts of things. Talking about my feelings ..." He paused, licking his lips. "But for you, I'm willing to try. I know that you want to understand, and you deserve to understand. I will try."

She nodded, placing her hand over his.

"But first, I think we should eat," he said to her.

She side-eyed him.

"I'm not avoiding the discussion Molly! I just think it would better not to talk about this over food, and I know you're hungry."

She gave in with a shrug and they settled down at the table.

"You're frightened," Sherlock noted a few silent minutes into their meal.

"Yes. I am."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't apologize Sherlock. At least, not yet."

He smiled slightly.

When they were finished eating, and the dishes had been placed in the sink, Sherlock took her hand and led her into the sitting room. He settled them both down onto the sofa. Molly tucked her legs underneath her, wrapping her arms about her middle. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to hold her. But instead he settled for leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees and pressing his palms together.

"You told me that there is nothing wrong with being afraid." He allowed his eyes to meet hers.

"There isn't. It's a perfectly normal human reaction; everyone gets scared at least some point in their life."

He sighed, dropping his gaze to look down at the floor. "Well, you were right, as you most often are. I am afraid."

Molly leaned forward, her arms dropping to her sides. "Of what?"

He returned his gaze to her. "Of you. Of us. Of what we're about to do."

She held her hand out, it hovering over his arm. "You're scared of me? Why?"

He let out a breath, his eyes dropping closed. "I am a ridiculous man Molly. I know that I am impossible to live with, that I say and do horrible things all the time. I can't keep my mouth shut; I can't stop my mind from calculating and observing. The more I think about it the more I become convinced that I will be a terrible husband. I'm terrified that I'll make you miserable, and that you'll come to regret marrying me, or that I'll regret marrying you."

"Sherlock Holmes, are you getting cold feet?"

His eyes popped open and he looked at her. "As horrible of a phrase as that is ... ye-ee-ss?"

Molly laughed softly before moving closer to him. She gave his chest a gentle shove and he sat back. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and without thinking his arms settled about her waist. She ran her hand over his jaw. "I don't expect you to be a perfect husband. In fact, I don't want you to be. I know I won't be a perfect wife!" She kissed him gently. "Marriage isn't easy Sherlock, not for anyone. But look at us; look at how far we have come, what we've gone through already. And look at John and Mary, what the two of them have gone through! If anything, it's made them stronger, made their love for each other stronger. I won't regret marrying you, and I don't think you'll regret marrying me either. You will upset me at some point, because you're you, and I will probably upset you as well ... but that's par for the course. We will work through it, and move on."

Sherlock released a very long breath, one that he hadn't realized he had been holding in. "How do you do it Molly? Put me at ease?"

She shrugged, moving her hands to the back of his neck. "I don't know. But I'm glad that I can."

He smiled and pulled her in for a searing kiss. After they pulled apart Molly laid her head down on his chest.

"What was it that Mary said to John ...?" she asked him.

"Mmm?"

"When you were helping them plan their wedding."

Sherlock sighed. "...'you know when you're scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going?'"

"Ahh yes, that's it." Molly lifted up her head and looked at him. "Is that what this has been? All of this planning?"

"Yes. And no."

"No?" she asked him, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"I sort of ... like it."

"The planning? You enjoy it?"

"Yes. There's actually quite a science to it."

She giggled. "You're adorable."

His nose wrinkled. "I thought that if I planned you a fantastic, beautiful wedding, it would make up for ..." he trailed off.

"A wedding isn't the marriage Sherlock. It's merely a celebration of it. You don't have to have a wedding, in order to have a marriage. It doesn't prove anything. It's merely a nice gesture to have all of your friends and family around you, to witness you joining your life with another."

He grumbled beneath his breath before saying, "Once again my lack of social constructs has failed me."

Molly nuzzled at his jaw, smiling slightly. "We don't need to have a wedding. I would happily marry you in front of a justice of the peace. Or even to have Mycroft perform the ceremony."

Sherlock snorted, setting Molly off into giggles. His hold on her tightened as he quickly stretched them both out so that they were lying side by side. "Fine then, I'll cancel everything."

She shook her head, nudging him onto his back as she moved on top of him. "Mmm! Mmm! No _p_ e! It's too late for that. You have no choice now but to go through with it, all of it."

He groaned. "Molly! Must I?"

She giggled again. "Ye _p_!"

"Stop that!" he growled out, getting annoyed by her obnoxious 'p' popping.

" _Nope_! You're the one who started it-EEE!"

He had flipped them so that she was now the one beneath. "Do you really mean what you said?" he asked her.

"Ye-oh-sss! YES! Sherlock!"

He smirked, slipping his hand out from her trousers.

"Your mother would never forgive you!" she said to him, with a determined glare.

Sherlock groaned, dropping his head to Molly's chest.

"Oh stop it, you'll survive! We both will."

He picked up his head. "Perhaps there will be another attempted murder!" he pondered excitedly.

Her eyes narrowed. "There bloody well not be!"

He humphed and dropped his head back down to her chest. Silence fell as Molly moved her fingers through his hair.

"Marriage really isn't all that terrible, Sherlock. You're just going to have to accept that you will be stuck with me for the rest of your life!"

He sniffed, but she could see that he was smiling. "I think I'll be ok with that."

"Good."

Several minutes of silence passed before Sherlock turned his head and nuzzled at the curve of her breast with the tip of his nose. Molly giggled; amused by the fact of how much he seemed to enjoy that particular part of her anatomy. She left out a soft yelp when he suddenly took her pebbled nipple between his teeth. Even through the fabric the sensation was fantastic. She arched her back, pressing herself into him.

"Bedroom?" he asked her, his voice deepening with want.

She only managed a whimper in reply. He helped her to her feet and led her to their bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind them he pressed her against it, kissing her deeply. He groaned into her mouth as she clutched at his arse. Seconds later she was pushing him back, nudging him towards the bed. They fell down upon the mattress, continuing to kiss as they struggled to remove each others clothes. She couldn't help but giggle as he became irritated by the zip of her trousers; it had always been a tricky one to undo.

"Stop! You're going to break it, I rather like these," she reprimanded.

With a frustrated huff he let go and allowed her to shimmy them off. She was now only in her pants, he had removed her jumper, shirt and bra. She continued to giggle as he laid flat on his back, glowering. She quickly straddled him, making sure to rub her damp knickers against his very prominent erection.

"Does it really bother you that much, that you can't undo the zip?" she asked him, rolling her hips against his.

He let out a slight hiss, bringing his hands to her waist. "I don't like it when something doesn't work. It makes me want to figure out why."

She smiled, nestling herself on top of him. "It's just a faulty zip, that's all. Probably something bent wrong ... I'll try not to wear them too often, mmm?" She tilted her head to the side, her smile widening.

He began to smile as well. "Come here."

She leaned forward until her breasts were resting against his chest.

"That's better," he said to her, directly before he crashed her lips to his.

"How is it," she asked him when they parted for breath, "that you always manage to become undressed more quickly then I do?"

He gave her a devious smirk. "You're a bit more anxious to have me naked!"

She let out an exasperated breath, but didn't argue his reason. He chuckled before taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it against her wet seam.

"My-my pants!" she panted out.

"Keep them on," he whispered huskily as he pushed the fabric to the side, before pressing the head of his cock directly against her slick centre.

She gasped as she eased her self down onto him, not stopping until he was seated fully inside of her. Sherlock held back the fabric of her knickers as she slowly began to ride him.

"Oh God, Sherlock! Kiss me!" she whimpered, her nipples brushing against his chest in time with her movements.

He did so; a muffled groan escaping him as her leaning further forward changed the angle that he was entering her.

She continued to gasp out his name, with interments of moans and soft mewls as he began to move his hips in rhythm with her. He could sense she was close, oh yes, he could feel her walls tightening around him. She suddenly cried out, her entire body shaking. He took a hold of her hips, and continued to thrust into her, riding out the waves of her orgasm. Within a few moments her name was a garbled gasp upon his lips as he climaxed. She collapsed against him and he held her close, slowly moving his hands up and down her back. Once her breath had slowed to a more normal pace she slid off of him and removed her knickers, tossing them to the floor. After she had done so she fixed upon Sherlock a look; a very, very determined look, a look that he knew well.

"Attempt any sort of experiment on them and you'll be sleeping on the sofa until our wedding."

He gulped. "The thought hadn't once crossed my mind."

She smiled cheekily at him. "I know. I just wanted to make you nervous."

He glowered. "Minx." He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back down to him. She laughed and it quickly turned into a happy sigh as he kissed her deeply.

They were now lying side by side, curled up around each other, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Do you think the sex will change after we're married?" he questioned, breaking through the quiet that had fallen.

Molly's eyes had begun to droop, but they opened when he asked her this. "I don't know, haven't really thought about it. Do you think it will?"

He shrugged. "I suppose it's possible."

"Change as in how?"

He moved onto his side, propping his head up onto his hand. "We both know what the other likes; we've thoroughly explored each other. There won't be anything new..."

Molly raised any eyebrow. "You really think so? I think sex can be a never-ending exploration. There's always something to try ... to experiment with."

He smiled, turning his body closer into hers. "All right, you win; I retract all of my previous statements."

She threw her head back and laughed as he rolled her onto her back. He was about to kiss her when suddenly the sound of his text tone rang out.

Molly frowned. "I thought you turned your mobile off?"

He sighed. "I ... forgot."

She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead and look at it; I know that you want to."

Sherlock planted a quick kiss upon her lips before sliding himself off of her and grabbing up his mobile from the bedside table. "It's Lestrade. He has a case for me. Oh ... a very good one. A very,  _very_ good one."

Molly moved onto her side, pushing her hair back from her face. "Are you going to take it?"

He didn't answer her, instead he continued to stare down at his phone, reading and re-reading Lestrade's text.

"Sherlock ... go. Solve the case. I know you want to, and I know you can."

He set his phone back down, the screen glowing ominously in the dark. Before he spoke he curled back into Molly, burrowing his face between her breasts. "No," he started firmly. "It's too close to our wedding. I can't guarantee that I would solve it in time."

She brought her hands up to the back of his head. "You're Sherlock Holmes, The World's only Consulting Detective, you can, and you will." She slid her hand down until her fingers ran across his cheek bone; she tipped his head back so that their eyes could meet. "There are no more decisions left to be made; everything for the wedding is taken care of. Go and solve the case Sherlock, it will drive you mad if you don't. I trust you."

He stared up at her for several moments, once again questioning and wondering how he had managed to find someone who could understand him so well. He pulled her into a kiss, cradling the back of her head in his hand. "I'll be back in time for the wedding, don't you worry," he said to her, his lips gently brushing against her own.

She smiled. "I'm not worried."

He kissed her again, then slipped out from beneath the sheets and grabbed up his mobile tapping at the screen. "Lestrade? I'll take the case."  
Molly watched Sherlock as he strode into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. She waited a few more moments until she heard the sound of the shower being turned on. She then rolled over and grabbed up her mobile, flinching and squinting as the bright light of the screen met her eyes. Then with a smile she quickly typed out a text.

Honeycomb is go. Queen Bee has taken the nectar. - Mx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> ... heeeee :D yeah, that last line gave me a good chuckle when I thought of it ;)
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you think! I'll try to update sooner, but I can't guarantee anything :3


	34. Queen Bee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to sound like a broken record here, but yeah … sorry for the long wait once again, I try, I really do but the days just seem to get away from me :-/
> 
> Also, once again, just in case: "HILARITY EMINENT, READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL!" ... i.e. I'd avoid hot drinks while reading, perhaps cold ones too.
> 
> I never know for certain what others will find funny, usually what I do find to be funny, other's don't :-P So, when it comes to my writing and I come up with an idea that has me cackling, I am never certain if others will find it as hilarious as I do, so yeah ... READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL! ... heh ... Enjoy ;)
> 
> And Trigger Warning: mention of prior drug use, but no description of usage!

 

* * *

_Queen Bee has taken the nectar._  - Mx

Molly giggled as she read over the text she had sent Mycroft, waiting for his reply.

_Excellent._  - MH

_Your choice of names is most appalling_. - MH

She let out a snort, and quickly texted back.

_Oh hush Mycroft! As if Lazarus was any better?_  - Mx

_It was appropriately chosen! He rose from the dead, did he not?_  - MH

_I'm just teasing you, no need to get your brolly in a knot! And besides, your brother has a complete fascination with bees, hence the reason why the name I chose is appropriate_. - Mx

_Touché_. - MH

Molly smirked as she quickly cleared out her text message conversation with Mycroft. She then set her phone down, shoved back the sheet and got up from the bed. She strode towards the bathroom, opened the door and stepped inside. The room was filled with steam and she could hear Sherlock humming over the sound of the falling water. She smiled as she moved towards the shower, sliding the door open before stepping inside. Sherlock glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned

"Took you long enough!" he chided.

"Sorry, Meena was texting me."

"Mmm." He slipped his arm around Molly's waist and pulled her under the water's stream. They kissed as the water poured down upon them. He cupped her bum in his hands, before lifting her up and pressing her against the shower wall. She squealed into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his erection hot and hard against her.

"God, Sherlock!" she gasped out. "Again?" She locked her legs around his waist, letting him know that she really didn't mind.

"Mhmm." He nudged his cock head against her clit before sliding into her with ease, swallowing her moan as he kissed her once more. He filled her repeatedly, tilting his body so that he would hit deep inside of her, directly in the right spot.

She cursed loudly, leaning her head back against the tile as he continued to thrust up into her. "Fuck Sherlock … oh! Fuck!" she mewled as her orgasm crashed over her.

He gave several more hard thrusts before spilling his seed inside of her, his hips pressed tightly against hers. He panted against her neck as he gave a roll of his hips, his cock beginning to soften. She had dug her nails into his shoulder blades, and was now easing her grip. She slowly brought her hand up to the back of his head, running her fingers through his wet curls. He hummed and lifted up his head, their eyes met before he kissed her gently. She lowered her legs, settling her feet flat on the shower floor, before he slid himself out of her.

"What's the case?" she asked him as they began to wash each other.

"Lestrade needs me to bring down a drug lord. Says he's been outwitting the NSY for months now." Sherlock gave a rather pompous snort. "That doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

Molly shook her head as she grabbed up the bottle of shampoo. "Where is he hiding out?"

"In Tilbury."

"Oh. No chance of you coming home during, then? That's nearly an hour away, isn't it?"

Sherlock nodded, lathing up her hair, gently massaging her scalp just the way that she liked. "Yes. To both your questions."

"Ok."

He rinsed out the soap. "It would be detrimental to the case, and also it's best if I don't attract attention to Baker Street." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded in agreement. "True."

A short while later they got out of the shower, toweled themselves dry and returned to the bedroom. As Sherlock put on his clothes Molly curled herself back beneath the sheets. She watched him, her chin resting on her hands; she couldn't help but admire his impeccable form of dress. If it had been any other case she would have gladly pulled him back into bed and had her way with him again, but she knew that it was important that he left now. There were things that needed to be done.

"Try to text me at least?" she said to him, as he did the buttons on his sleeves.

He turned to face her. "I'll try. You know how I get. Text John if you don't hear from me."

She humphed and sat up, pulling the sheet about her. "Hearing directly from you is much better."

Sherlock stepped over to her and kneeled down, taking his hands in hers. "Just remember, you're always up here." He released one of her hands and tapped at his temple with his fingertip. "You're always on my mind, you help me a lot."

She couldn't keep herself from smiling. "Mind Palace Molly, eh?"

He nodded and brushed his lips against hers. "Yes."

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. "Come back to me. Marry me."

His hands had moved to her waist, pulling her to the edge of the bed, closer to him. He returned the kiss before answering her. "I will." He gave her another kiss before he stood. He finished dressing then returned to the bathroom to brush his teeth and dry his hair. When he came back into the bedroom she had pushed herself up towards the top of the bed. She took his pillow and hugged it to her chest as he pulled on his suit jacket. He walked back over to her and leaned forward. He smiled down at her, running his hand through her hair. "I love you," he told her.

She returned his smile. "I love you too." She reached up and grabbed his lapel, pulling him down to her for a passionate kiss.

He groaned against her lips. "You're not making it easy for me to leave you."

A faint blush washed over her cheeks. "Well, I'll take that as the highest compliment you could ever give me!"

He kneeled on the bed, stroking her cheek with his fingers. "I mean what I say Molly. The Work is important to me, but so are you."

She leaned into his hand. "I've never doubted that."

"Good."

They shared another gentle kiss before he straightened. "Get some sleep, you've got a long shift tomorrow," he said to her.

She moaned and shoved her face into the pillow. He chuckled as he again left the room, returning a few moments later pulling on his Belstaff. She peered up at him over the edge of the pillow.

"Try not and doing anything stupid," she pleaded with him.

He bit back the retort that came to his lips when he saw the concerned expression in her eyes.

"You have a fiancée you need to come back to, to marry," she added.

He felt as if someone had reached into his chest, taken his heart into their hand and given it a squeeze. He nodded and swallowed thickly. "Molly, come here."

She sat up and moved towards him, he enveloped her in his arms cradling her close. He pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, her forehead and then her nose, before gazing deeply into her eyes. "I'll come back to you. Don't worry," he said gently.

She nodded, holding onto him tightly. With one final kiss he released her from his hold and left. As soon as she heard the front door snick shut she grabbed up her mobile and sent a text to Mycroft.

_The Queen Bee has left the hive_. - Mx

She was certain she could sense Mycroft sneering.

_His whereabouts will be kept under close surveillance_. - MH

For some time she lay quietly in the bed, still hugging Sherlock's pillow to her chest. Sherlock had been considerate enough to leave the bedroom door open. Toby wandered in, jumped onto the bed and began purring as he approached Molly. She held her hand out to him and he hurried over to her. He bumped his head against her palm, purring louder as she began to scratch him behind his ears. He curled up beside her, and his purr lulled her to sleep.

Molly slept throughout the night, and Toby stayed by her side, happy to not be shooed from the room. When she awoke she was at first confused, having forgotten that Sherlock had left. She then began to remember that this was all part of the plan. She slipped out from beneath the sheets and pulled on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns as she made her way out to the kitchen, Toby close on her heels. She set about making tea, but stopped when she spotted a small folded piece of paper propped up against Sherlock's microscope. Her iPod was sat beside it. She took up the piece of paper and opened it, instantly recognizing Sherlock's handwriting.

_Molly,_

_Please continue to practice the waltz while I am gone. There are still a few areas that need refining._

_I love you._

_Sherlock_

She chuckled softly to herself, thinking back to when he first started to teach her how to properly waltz. She had been obstinate at first, telling him that she knew perfectly well how to do so. She quickly realized how wrong she was. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to listen to the songs he had selected for her, but the clock hanging on the wall told her otherwise. She had to get ready for work.

Twelve hours later Molly returned to the flat, quite exhausted. After pouring herself a glass of red wine, she filled the bath with hot water and stripped. She let out a happy sigh as she sank into the warmth. She idly sipped her wine as she lay back against the tub. By the time she surfaced her skin was rather wrinkled.

After toweling herself dry she put on another of Sherlock's dressing gowns and made her way into the kitchen. Toby meowed at her incessantly, rather annoyed with her for not having fed him when she first got home. Once that was taken care of she heated up the leftover takeaway from the night before, making a mental note that she needed to go food shopping.

Once the food was hot she plated it and moved into the sitting room. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the Wedding Wall. The bare Wedding Wall. She stared at it for a few moments then let out a loud snort. Mycroft must have sent some of his men to clear it all away while she was at work. It was nice to see the wallpaper once more, smiley face, bullet holes and all. She settled herself down upon the sofa and turned on the telly. A sound of delight erupted from her when she saw that one of her favourite  _Doctor Who_  episodes was on.

When she was finished eating she washed up and then grabbed her iPod and returned to the sitting room. The bath and glass of red wine had done wonders for her. Molly slipped in the ear buds and closed her eyes as the music washed over her. She began to slowly sway back and forth. She could hear Sherlock's voice, gently instructing her to listen to the rhythm of the song; to focus on the beat, and to move her body in time with it. A smile came to her lips as she raised her arms to the proper position. She took a step forward, then a step back. She could very nearly feel his hand in hers and his arm about her waist. She wanted nothing more then for him to be here, right now, with her; but she also knew that this was just one of the stipulations she had to put up with when being with Sherlock Holmes.

For an hour she practiced, noting how difficult it actually was to do so without a partner. It was slightly awkward, to say the least. But she was proud of herself for the improvements she had made; Sherlock was quite a wonderful teacher. Pulling the buds from her ears she spotted Toby sat upon Sherlock's chair. The feline was eyeing her warily, most likely wondering what sort of odd thing his human was up to now. She giggled at the thought and walked over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

* * *

Four days later and Sherlock had texted her all of two times. The first time was to tell her that both he and John had arrived at Tilbury. The second one was to tell her that he missed her. She tried not to let the lack of texts bother her, but she couldn't help but feel slightly worried.

Thankfully she had a busy day at work to distract her, and when she was leaving Bart's that evening a nearby sleek, black car caught her eye. She was surprised that Mycroft hadn't informed her with a text. Just to be sure she checked her phone and saw that there was in fact a text from him. She got into the car and was taken to his private office.

Mycroft was sat behind his desk as Anthea ushered her in. Before Molly could even open her mouth to speak a word he held up his hand, his gaze lifting from the document he had been perusing.

"As my brother constantly likes to remind people, I am the British Government. Everything is being taken care of as we speak."

She settled herself down into the chair that he beckoned towards. His gaze was strong upon her.

"You're worried." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Molly nodded. "I am. I trust Sherlock ... but ... he did-" She stopped, inwardly cursing herself for the tears that were coming to her eyes. "He's already once turned back to drugs for a case. Who is to say that he won't do so again? You know the old saying, 'once an addict, always an addict.'" She furiously wiped away the traitorous tear that had fallen down her cheek.

Mycroft leaned forward. "My dear, it  _is_ a risk sending him in to take down such a man, but these are entirely different circumstances. For one, he has John with him, and the other, he risks losing you if he were to ever do such a thing again. I know my brother well enough that he would not allow himself to do so. His love for you runs far deeper than any craving for drugs."

She sniffled. "Mycroft, can I hug you?"

He was taken aback by her request. He silently nodded in affirmation before he stood and moved around his desk towards her. Molly did so as well and gently wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you," her voice was muffled by his suit jacket.

He surprised himself by putting his arms around her and placing a gentle kiss upon the top of her head. "You are most welcome."

She released him and stepped back, smiling shyly up at him. "I'm happy that I'll be soon calling you my brother."

He returned to his chair, the tips of his ears tinged a faint pink, and cleared his throat. Molly sat back down as well, hoping that she had not made him feel too uncomfortable. He clasped his hands and stared down at them.

"Molly, I must admit to you that I once strongly believed that caring was a disadvantage. From a young age I embedded that thought into Sherlock's brain, and I deeply regret it. I only wish that I had learned the error of my ways sooner. Sherlock is a better man because of you, and also because of John.

"When my brother  _died_ , I felt very alone. I hadn't realized how much I had depended on him. The times that you and I took tea together, they weren't just to give you updates on his whereabouts and his well-being, they were also for companionship.

"And Anthea, I was such a fool in regards to her. She had been right before my eyes for years and I ignored her, suppressed any sort of feeling I had towards her. As you now are aware, that has changed and I know that I am a better man because of her.

"So, you must allow me to say that I welcome you with open arms, and an open heart, into the Holmes' family." He slowly looked up at her, smiling warmly, making himself appear years younger.

Molly couldn't keep the tears from falling now, amazed by all that he had just said to her. He passed her a tissue and she gratefully accepted it.

"I think some tea is in order, or would you perhaps like something stronger?" he asked her.

"Tea would be lovely."

A few minutes later Anthea came in with the tea trolley. She poured them each a cup and when she was about to make her leave, Mycroft stopped her. "Please join us," he requested.

She was stood near the door, and gave a cautious glance towards Molly, before returning her gaze to Mycroft.

"She is aware of our relationship. Please join us." He beckoned towards a chair next to Molly.

Anthea stepped away from the door and sat. She poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip.

"I'm a bit late, but congratulations!" Molly said to her.

Anthea smiled widely. "Thank you, and congratulations to you, on your upcoming nuptials."

"I hope you will be at the wedding?"

A faint blush coloured Anthea's cheeks. "That is entirely up to my husband."

"Oh, please Mycroft! Do let her come," Molly pleaded.

"I had all intentions of doing so. And Anthea, I've asked you to join us because I have a proposal for the two of you."

* * *

"Mycroft is doing what?!" Meena shrieked rather loudly.

Molly hushed her, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that her friend's loud outburst hadn't impinged upon anyone else. It had been an hour since she was sat in Mycroft's office, and she was now having dinner at Angelo's. Meena had taken a generous sip of her wine, not entirely certain if she had heard correctly.

"Could you please repeat what you just said to me?" she asked of Molly.

Molly echoed her former statement, "Mycroft is paying for us to go to Ushvani."

Meena shook her head, still unable to believe her ears. She took another large sip of wine. "That's bloody madness! Does the man know how expensive that place is?"

Molly let out a snort. "He's the British Government! Money isn't really an issue for him."

"Good Lord, these Holmes'! Is Sherrinford as much of a snob as his brothers?"

Molly snorted again. "Not in the slightest, you wouldn't think they were related but for the fact that he looks (facially at least), very much so like Sherlock."

Meena got a far-away look in her eye. "Is it sad of how much I am looking forward to meeting him?"

Molly shook her head. "No. I'm really hoping that the two of you will hit it off straight away."

Meena smiled meekly. "I'm kind of hoping for that as well." She grabbed a roll from the basket it and tore off a bite. "So, Mary, you and I are going to this spa?"

Molly nodded, twirling her fettuccine around her fork. "Yes, and Anthea as well."

"Anthea? Who's that?"

"Mycroft's PA." Molly glanced around them before leaning closer to her friend and whispering into her air. "She's also his wife."

Meena's eyes widened to such a pitch that they looked as if they would pop. "Wife?" she mouthed.

"Yes. But don't go flapping your gums about it; they want to keep it hush hush."

Meena looked affronted. "Why would I do such a thing? I'm not gossip!"

Molly shrugged. "Just taking a precaution, that's all."

Meena downed the rest of her wine. "Bloody hell. I think I'm going to need another glass. This is just a bit too much of shocking information for one day!"

Molly laughed, never failing to be amused by her friend's dramatic antics.

* * *

It was a week now since Sherlock left, and except for the first two texts she hadn't received any others. The last time John had responded to her texts was two days ago. She forced herself to not be bothered by this, and instead focused on what the day would bring. Today was Spa Day! Molly had never been to a spa before, and after she had gone on the website she couldn't help but be excited.

Toby was busy cleaning himself, sprawled out across the sofa, as she bustled around him. He gave her an annoyed, dignified look before proceeding to lick his paws and clean behind his ears. When the sound of a car horn broke through she gave him a peck on the top of his head and exited the flat. He watched her leave, letting out a satisfied exhale; he rather liked it when he had the place to himself. He jumped down from the sofa and walked over to Sherlock's chair. After climbing onto it, he circled three times before settling down, tucking his tail beneath him before going to sleep. He was smiling smugly to himself, intent on leaving behind several tufts of fur to show the Consulting Detective how much he disliked being kicked out of the bedroom, every single night.

Molly was of course, oblivious to all of this, far too excited to think about her disgruntled feline. A sleek black car awaited her outside the door of 221. A light rain was falling but she paid it no mind. She was greeted with a chorus of exuberant hellos as she got into the car. They were all smiling happily and Molly was pleased to see that Anthea seemed to fit right in.

Meena turned to Molly. "Anthea was just telling us what it's like to be married to the British Government."

"He's not such an Ice Man in the bedroom," Anthea noted.

Molly covered her ears with her hands. "La! La! La! I can't hear you!" she sang out.

The three women chuckled.

Molly dropped her hands away. "Can we not talk about men? Isn't there something else we can discuss?"

Anthea, who honestly looked a bit strange to Molly without having her Blackberry in her hands, smiled. "I can tell you what will be enjoying at the spa today, if you like."

"Oh yes! Please do," Meena, Molly and Mary spoke this in unison.

"First we will relax in the spa pool, followed by the steam room. From there we will go into the Relaxation Room, for a light snack, before going to the Asmara Suite where we will each be given a Penyepit Facial, and a Malay Massage, ending in the Tea Room."

It would be wrong to not point out that Molly's, Meena's and Mary's mouths were hanging open in awe.

"Wow, Mycroft certainly knows how to spoil us!" Molly exclaimed.

Anthea smiled. "He may not be a man of many words, at least of the sentimental kind. Thus, he uses his actions."

Molly smiled as well. "Sherlock can be very much the same way."

Mary looked as if she were the cat that got the cream. "John is a lovely combination of both."

Meena crossed her arms across her chest. "Jesus, ladies! Just throw the single girl under the bus, why don't you?"

Molly put her arm around her friend. "Sorry Meena."

The rest of the drive to the spa they continued to discuss what the day would bring. Upon arriving at Ushvani they were ushered inside and were directed to turn off their cell phones and then they were brought to the changing rooms to put on their swim suits. Once they had changed they were led into the pool room.

They sank into the cool, clear water, sighing blissfully as the sound of the water flowing down the nearby wall lulled them towards full relaxation. They basked in the silence, each of them with their eyes closed. After a short while they were brought to the Steam Room. At first they were all a bit too hot and slightly uncomfortable with the humidity, but they slowly began to calm down and realize how much better they were beginning to feel. By the time they were finished they were ready for something to drink and nosh on.

After they each donned a luxurious robe they were led to the Relaxation Room that was filled with plush sofas and pillows. They were served an array of juices, dried fruit, and nuts. Once they had eaten their fill the four of them made their way into the Asmara Suite.

Although she felt a bit like a fool, Molly couldn't help but allow her mouth to drop open. Never before had she seen such a beautiful room. She no longer felt as if she were in London, it seemed as if within taking a matter of steps she had managed to travel a great distance; to Bali or Tahiti. It was clear that the other women felt the same.

Four regal massage tables were set up, surrounded by lush chairs and plump pillows. There was even a fireplace with a small fire going. Molly was certain she had never seen anything like it. Masseuses were stood beside the tables, waiting with a welcoming and warm expression. Soft music filled the air, and a gentle scent came from the colourful tropical flowers that were placed about the room.

The four women exchanged smiles then moved towards the massage tables. Having never had a facial or a massage before Molly didn't exactly know what to expect, but she was not in the slightest way disappointed. She was in absolute bliss, and judging by the near complete silence from her friends, it appeared that they were enjoying themselves in the same capacity. The only thing that could have made it better was if Sherlock was there enjoying it with her. Her thoughts drifted towards him, and she felt a slight twinge in her heart; she missed him so much. She could only hope that all was going well with him. Mycroft had assured her that if anything were to go awry with the case he would personally step in.

Molly forced her mind to focus on the gentle kneading that her masseuse, Jenny, was performing on her calf muscles. She hadn't realized that she had been so tense, but she supposed that it made sense seeing as her job required her to be on her feet the majority of the time. When Jenny moved up to her shoulders and began to work on a rather large knot, a low moan escaped her. Her cheeks became a bright pink; she couldn't have possibly held it in though it just felt so good.

"You are very tense in your shoulder area," Jenny spoke softly to her as she worked through another knot.

"Yes, I ahh, I work standing over a table a lot of the day," Molly explained to her.

"Oh? What do you do?"

Another blush came to Molly's cheeks. "I'm ahhh - I work in St. Bart's Hospital, in the - ahhh, Pathology department."

Jenny continued to dig into the knot. "Oh? You do autopsies then?"

Molly tilted her head slightly in order to peer up at her. "Yes."

Jenny smiled. "You look surprised that I know this."

"I am. Most people haven't a clue what I'm talking about when I mention pathology. And once I explain to them they are more often than not, disgusted."

Jenny's smile widened, she then gave a slight shrug. "Well, I don't think it's disgusting! That's such an important job to have."

Molly returned the smile then settled her head back down and closed her eyes.

By the time their massages came to an end the four of them felt as if their bodies were made of butter. It was quite a wonderful feeling. After allowing them to relax for a bit and return to a more conscious state, they were then served cups of hibiscus tea.

Meena covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned loudly. "Oh gracious! I don't think I'm going to have energy to do anything else for the rest of the day. I've never felt so relaxed in all my life."

Molly, Mary and Anthea made a noise of agreement. Once they were finished with their tea they returned to the changing rooms to put on their clothes. As Molly was getting dressed she pondered how she could possibly repay Mycroft for gifting her such a wonderful day. What could you possibly give the British Government?

Before they left Ushvani they each bought a facial scrub and several types of tea. As they walked outside, they noticed that the rain had stopped but that threatening clouds still hung overhead. Anthea smiled at them before they got into the waiting car.

"You are all welcome to return with me to our private residence, and to join Mycroft and I for dinner. Please don't worry yourselves thinking that it will be some posh affair. We in fact live quite simply."

The three of them accepted the invitation gladly and they all got into the car. As they made their way through London a deluge of rain began to fall. But by the time they arrived outside of the Holmes' residence in Hyde Park, it had thankfully slowed to a calm drizzle.

They got out of the car and followed Anthea inside. Meena's, Mary's and Molly's mouths fell open. Anthea gave a chuckle when she noticed there amazement. Her cheeks were flushed.

"I know it's a bit much, isn't it?" she said. "We only just recently moved in here, so the decor isn't entirely to our liking. We've been changing a few things here and there."

The house was most certainly grand, but yet it had a cozy feel to it. Molly was certain this was mostly due to Anthea adding her feminine touch.

"Would either one of you care for a glass of wine? Please, make yourself at home, don't be afraid to touch anything, this isn't a museum even though it may look a bit like one!"

A half an hour later the four of them were sitting comfortably on the plush silver sofas, chatting away and drinking wine, as Mycroft came walking in. He greeted them with a smile and Molly was certain she had never seen him so at ease. When he announced that he would be cooking dinner for them she nearly choked on her wine.

Another half hour later and they were sat at a large glass table in the very spacious kitchen eating the delicious meal that Mycroft had made for them. Molly was certain that wonders would never cease! What else were these Holmes' boys hiding?

Conversation flowed easily and comfortably, as well as the wine. But once they were finished eating, and Mycroft refused the help that was offered to clean up, Mary and Meena gave their thanks and left. Mary needed to pick up her daughter from the babysitter, and Meena had to work the early shift the next day. Molly was the only one to linger.

She felt guilty staying at the table while Mycroft and Anthea cleaned up the dishes from the meal, but both of them assured her that they didn't mind. She continued to sip her wine, silently watching the two them clean up the kitchen.

It was almost like watching a pair of dancers as they moved about, seeming to know beforehand the next step the other would make so that they wouldn't bump into each other. It was rather beautiful.

Once everything was put away Anthea's blackberry rang. She took the call, stepping out of the room. Mycroft approached Molly, where she was still sat, a small white box in his hands.

"When my men collected all of the wedding paraphernalia from 221B, these were among them." He opened the box revealing the invitations that Molly had ordered.

"Oh! I've completely forgotten about those!"

He smiled. "I presumed so. I also presumed that since they are blank you were going to hand-write them yourself? Quite an undertaking."

She shrugged. "I taught myself calligraphy years ago, but I never have a chance to use it. I've been so wrapped up in everything else I can't believe I forgot to send them out, now I suppose it's too late." She paused for a moment then her face lit up. "Oh! I just came up with a perfect idea; I'll keep them and use them as thank you cards."

Mycroft's smile widened as he handed her the box.

A short while later Molly returned to the flat. After feeding Toby, who was rather annoyed that she had left him alone all day, she walked into the bedroom and dropped down upon the bed, her face pressed into her pillow. She tugged her mobile out of her pocket as she let out a loud, "Mmmphh!" Then rolled over onto her back and quickly typed out a text to Sherlock.

_I miss you._  - Mx

She didn't expect a reply; she just wanted to let him know that she was thinking of him. She placed her mobile on the table beside the bed and tucked her arms beneath the pillow, before dropping her head back down. She was very nearly asleep when her phone buzzed. Her head popped up and she blinked wearily at the darkness, momentarily confused. She then saw the glow of her phone. She reached out, grabbed it and saw that there was a text from Sherlock.

_I miss you too._  - SH

She fell asleep with a smile upon her face.

Three days later she was bustling about the kitchen. She had just gotten off of the phone with Mycroft, and was feeling a little bit better after voicing to him her worries. The fact was that her wedding was less than four days away and she hadn't heard from Sherlock, and this was putting her on edge. He had promised her that he would be home in time, but her anxiety was now kicking in and she feared that her and Mycroft's elaborate plan was failing. Mycroft though had assured her that all was well. After ringing off with him she let out a slow breath and forced herself to focus on the task at hand; she was attempting to cook a dish she had never made before. Suddenly her text tone pinged.

_The case is solved. I'm coming home_. – SH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> WHAT?! No! I can't possibly be so cruel as to end it there, can I?
> 
> Well guess what, you are in luck! Because today you're getting two chapters for the price of one! Head on over to Chapter 35 :D
> 
> (but of course you could also leave me a nice little comment on this chapter before you do so – heh).


	35. I'm Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on my dear readers, read on ;)
> 
> And of course: READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL! *cackles*

* * *

_The case is solved. I'm coming home_. – SH

She practically squealed with joy as she read the message from Sherlock. Was it possible that Mycroft had intervened?

 _How long until you're here_? - Mx

 _An hour. Need to stop at the Yard; Gavin has paperwork for me to fill out. How droll! Doesn't he know how desperate I am to see you_? - SH

 _I'm desperate to see you too_. - Mx

 _I'll be there soon_. - SH

After giving a happy little jig she sent off a quick text to Mycroft; even though she was certain he already was aware of the current circumstances.

 _Queen Bee is returning to the hive_. - Mx

 _As I told you, there was nothing to be worried about. -_ MH

 _A car will be sent to pick you up tomorrow_. - MH

 _Thank you_. - Mx

Molly set down her phone and returned to what she had been doing, she was desperate for distraction; anxiously awaiting the arrival of Sherlock. And exactly an hour later she heard the front door opening and him bounding up the stairs.

As soon as he entered the flat Molly was in his arms. He held her close, lifting her up and kissing her deeply, passionately. She clung to him, her feet dangling above the floor, as she ran her hands through his hair at the nape of his neck.

"God Molly," he gasped out, "I've missed you!" He kissed her again, silencing her noise of agreement as he slipped his hands beneath her jumper.

They suddenly broke apart when his stomach growled loudly. She giggled as he settled her back down on the floor. He was frowning.

"Hungry?" she asked him with a smile.

"It would seem so. Yes."

"I made ratatouille."

His eyes lit up. "Oh?"

"Mhmm, your mum sent me the recipe. She said that you loved it as a child." She took his hand and led him into the kitchen. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair at the table. Molly moved over to the pot and began to dish out the ratatouille into bowls. Sherlock walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nestling his chin between the curve of her neck and shoulder. She leaned into him, letting out a hum of contentment when he turned his head and began to trail kisses along her skin. Suddenly she scrunched up her nose.

"You smell different."

He grimaced. "Yes, well that would be due to the fact that I showered at the NSY. I wasn't about to come home to you reeking of the docks."

"Ahh, wise decision."

He loosened his hold on her, she stepped away from him, and he followed her to the table. They sat and began to eat.

"This is delicious Molly, tastes just like how my mother would make it," he said to her.

She gave him a happy smile before they settled into a comfortable silence as they continued to eat. This was a new development for them both. Usually, directly after solving a case Sherlock wanted to do nothing more then tell Molly all about it, but lately he had been waiting to do so. After the pressures of a case his mind reveled in enjoying a quiet hour or two with her, basking in the silence. At the moment though, all he really wanted to do was take her to bed, and show her exactly how much he had missed her. He managed to hold off that thought until after had had eaten a second helping.

As soon as the dishes were soaking in the sink and the leftover food put away (knowing that she would protest if he didn't allow her to at least do that), he carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down upon the mattress and kissed her languorously as he began to take off her clothes. As each item was removed from her body he lathered her skin with kisses, leaving a few red marks here and there. The moment she was naked beneath him she gave him a shove, causing him to fall down onto his back.

She giggled as she climbed onto him, amused by his disgruntled expression. Ever so slowly she unbuttoned his shirt, nipping and licking at the freshly revealed skin. He tugged off it off his arms, tossing the shirt to the floor to join her own clothes as she undid the button and zip of his trousers. He kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks as she pulled down his trousers, revealing that he was delightfully lacking pants. Now he too was as naked as she was. She gave his pulsing cock a quick swipe with her tongue, swirling it around the head.

She let out a yelp when he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up before moving them to the edge of bed, planting his bare feet firmly on the floor. He let out a happy sigh as they at last became skin to skin.

He kissed her gently, and she moaned against his mouth. Her knees settled alongside his hips, his hard cock becoming nestled against her wet seam. When they parted she lifted herself up slightly and brought her hand down between them. She slipped her fingers around his length, brushing her thumb across his knob. Molly watched as his eyelashes fluttered, the faintest of groans escaping from between his lips as she repeated the action. With their eyes locked on each other's she slid his cock down the length of her folds, a slight hitch in her breath as the head brushed over her clit. She then positioned him directly at her entrance before she slowly sank herself down, encasing him in her wet heat.

Sherlock's full lips formed a small 'o' as her body became nestled directly against his, he cupped her bum in his hands and kissed her hungrily. She placed her arms around his shoulders as she slowly lifted herself almost completely off his cock, letting the tip rest inside of her for a moment, before dropping back down. She then arched her back as he dipped his head to suckle on her breasts as she continued to ride him. She kept the pace slow and methodic, wanting to revel in the sensation of him being inside of her. Of him being  _home_.

She was moaning now, and letting out soft increments of "ah!" and "oh!" as he moved his hands to hold onto her hips, helping her, guiding her body's movements. She started to rock her hips forward, so that her pelvis was pressed against his, giving her clit the friction it craved. Sherlock was kissing and nibbling at her neck, groaning uncontrollably each time that he fully entered her. She increased her pace ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Molly! I can't hold on any longer, you feel so good, I'm going to come," he cried out.

"Shhhhh …" she continued to rock her body, brushing her lips against his. "It's all right, let yourself go."

He cursed again, grabbing tightly onto her hips, before bucking up into her. He groaned out her name as he came inside of her, his eyes squeezed shut. Panting heavily he slipped his arms over her back, holding onto her as she continued to ride his now softening cock.

"Oh! Oh!" She pressed herself down onto him, rubbing her clit against his pelvis in just the right way. He felt her walls convulse around him and he groaned again. She fell against him, shaking slightly.

After a few minutes, still cradling her close to him, he pushed himself further up onto the bed so that they could stretch out side by side. He grabbed up the sheet and covered them both, before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mmm, welcome home Sherlock," she murmured to him.

He smiled, brushing his nose against her temple.

"How was the case?" she asked him, several minutes later.

He grunted, moving onto his back and tucking an arm beneath his pillow. "Dismal. Ganton Hughes is a bit too smart for his own good. John and I had to be extremely careful not to set him off, do anything to make him suspicious. The bastard had us all over Tilbury, and in the end we very nearly lost him; he almost made it onto a boat." Sherlock yawned noisily.

Molly reached out and gently ran her fingers up and down his arm that lay between them. She traced the sinews of his veins, touching the very faint track marks that would never leave his skin. "Were you in any danger?"

He turned his head to the side, looking at her, knowing exactly what she was asking. "No. To tell you the truth Molly, the thought never once crossed my mind. I think it's mainly because you occupy so much of it."

She smiled and he grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She laid her head down on his shoulder. "You're welcome."

"We did get shot at a few times." He noted a few minutes later.

Molly sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

He nuzzled her hair with his nose. "Because you know me well enough not to be."

They fell asleep; her body curled against his, and neither of them woke until early morning. After a few minutes of lazy kisses Molly slid off of the bed, telling Sherlock to stay where he was. She puttered about the kitchen for a few minutes before returning to the bedroom with a tray holding a pot of tea, a plate of toast and a bowl of cut-up fruit.

Sherlock fed her bits of toast and strawberry, and between sips of tea he nuzzled at her neck, breathing in the scent of her. Once they were finished eating and drinking their tea, Molly took the tray and placed it on the floor. He pulled her to him, letting his hands wander over her skin as they reveled in each others kisses. He cupped her breasts then replaced his fingers with his mouth. He moaned around the softness of her skin, loving the sweet taste of her. Once both breasts were pink from his attentions he laid his head down upon them. His hand came to rest upon her hip, his thumb brushing idly across her skin as he gently nuzzled her with his nose.

She watched silently as his eyes fell shut. His eyelashes fluttered, and his breathing slowed to a steady, constant rhythm. "Sherlock?" She knew he was only dozing, that he wasn't fully asleep.

He grunted slightly. "Mmm?"

Molly nudged him onto his back and slid her body on top of his, her legs falling to the sides of his hips. He let out a hum, enjoying the fact that they were once more skin to skin. His eyes slowly opened and he peered up at her, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Yes?" he enquired, his eyebrows rising.

"Will you do something for me? No questions asked?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You trust me, don't you?" she coaxed.

He made a noise of agreement. "For the most part, yes, but at the moment I'm not so sure."

She let out a soft chuckle, nestling her body closer to his. He gave another satisfied hum, before moving his hands up her back, dancing his fingertips along her spinal column.

"Will you allow me to take you somewhere?" she requested.

He frowned. "Now?"

She nodded. "Yes. Now."

"Do I have a choice?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "Not really."

He growled slightly. "You're up to something."

She widened her eyes innocently and he began to pout.

"AH! AH! None of that!" She tapped his protruding bottom lip, and he humphed. She leaned forward and gave it a non-too tender nibble. She shrieked loudly when he rapidly changed their positions. She gasped for breath then glared up at him, he was smiling now. She knew that he was trying to distract her.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Seeing as you've left me with no choice, yes," he snapped out the last word.

It was her turn to smile. She brought her hands up and cupped his face, bringing him down to her for a kiss.

"What are you up to Molly?" he murmured between kisses.

She laughed against his lips. "You'll find out soon enough! And since you've been such a good boy-" She slid her leg up over the back of his. "You can make love to me before we leave."

His brow was furrowed, but she could see in his eyes that he was rather delighted with this prospect. He quickly adopted a blank expression. "Using sex as an enticement? Tut tut, I would have thought you were above all that, Molly."

"Well," she giggled out the word, "at the moment I'm below."

He sighed wearily, and dropped his head down to suckle the skin directly over her pulse point. She slipped her other leg over the back of his thigh, before moving her hands down to his arse. He yelped when she dug her nails into his skin. As payment in kind he bit down on her clavicle, he then bathed the reddened skin with his tongue.

"I know you want to!" she sang softly to him, raising her hips ever so slightly from the bed so that she could rub herself against him, letting him know how wet she was for him.

"You are cruel," he hissed out. Before she had a chance to say anything he kissed her hungrily. She moaned into his mouth as he wrapped his hand around his length and situated himself at her entrance, nudging her wet core. He dragged the tip upwards, circling her clit before sliding back down. "Where are you taking me?" he asked hoarsely, as he slid his cock into her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Mmm -EEEE!-I'm not telling," she gasped out, his hips pressing against hers as he fully seated himself inside of her.

"Fuck!" he groaned, amazed by how tight, wet and warm she always felt around him. "God Molly, the things you do to me." He surged back, only to thrust in as hard as he could.

She swore loudly, lifting her hips to meet his. He reached back and grabbed her ankles, pressing her knees down into the mattress so that he could place her feet on his shoulders without missing a single thrust. She cried out as he entered her both harder and deeper.

"Where are- you taking- me?" he asked again, emphasizing every other word with a solid thrust.

She whimpered and shook her head, before smiling up at him. He leaned towards her and they kissed. Their lovemaking was both hard and fast, the polar opposite to what they had done the night before. Within minutes he had her screaming his name as she came around him. His hips were smacking against hers as he too came with a shout.

He collapsed against her, breathing heavily against her neck. "It's nice to know that you won't crack under pressure," he gasped out a few moments later, as he helped her to lower her legs before he returned to his previous position.

She chuckled as she turned to press her lips to his forehead.

"And there better not be anyone else who puts you under this sort of pressure!" he growled out, rotating his hips slightly, his softening cock still inside of her.

"Mmm, absolutely not!"

He raised his head and gave her a searing kiss.

"We should shower, we're on a strict schedule," she said to him, crossing her arms over the back of his neck.

"Are we now?"

"Mhmm! We have an hour before the car arrives." She could see the wheels in his head starting to turn, so she gave the back of his scalp a good swat. "Stop trying to figure out what's going on! Just enjoy it, go with the flow."

He rolled his eyes at her use of a cliché, but sat up, helping her up as well. "Did you say an hour?" he questioned with a devilish smirk.

She shoved him towards the edge of the bed as he chuckled. "Honestly Sherlock, get that libido of yours under control!"

He huffed. "Admit it, you rather enjoy it."

She grumbled beneath her breath as they walked into the bathroom. Once he had turned on the shower head, allowing the steaming water to cascade down, he pressed her against the wall. When he kneeled before her she knew exactly what his intention was. She placed her hands upon his shoulders as she waited with bated breath. He peered up at her through his lashes, smiling roguishly. His hands were on her thighs, and he kept his gaze locked on hers as he slowly slid them further inwards. When his thumbs brushed against the bottom of her labium, that was still slick from their previous lovemaking, she inhaled sharply.

His smile widened as he slid his thumbs upward, spreading her apart. His gaze dropped so that he could look upon her, all pink and glistening. A shriek escaped her as he took her clit directly between his lips and gave a long suckle. She very nearly came right then and there. Her back arched, pressing herself against his mouth as she leaned her head back, gasping and moaning his name as he continued to ravish her with his tongue and lips, tasting their combined juices. When he slid two of his fingers into her she let out a cry, her legs shaking slightly.

He groaned and it vibrated against her as he moved his other hand to his cock and began to stroke and pump himself. He lapped at her ruthlessly, continuing to fuck her with his fingers. She was making helpless peeping noises, as he continued to work his hand on his cock and his mouth on her clit.

"Oh God, Sherlock! Oh God!" She was rocking herself against his lips, in rhythm to his fingers that were still fucking her, clutching tightly to his shoulders. With one final cry she came undone. He slid his fingers from her and lapped up her fresh wave of juices, still stroking himself. When he switched hands, and used his slick fingers on his cock, he came with a low groan his forehead pressed against her stomach.

He struggled to his feet, and she wrapped her arms around him, nudging him backwards until they stepped beneath the fall of water. They shared a few kisses before they began to wash each other. Thirty minutes later they surfaced from the bathroom.

"How should I dress?" he asked her, rubbing the towel over his hair.

"You're usual will do."

"Aubergine shirt?" He smirked.

She gulped. "If you like."

Molly dressed simply, making sure to not give him any sort of hint as to where their final destination would be.

"Do I need to pack?" he asked her once he had finished drying his hair.

She shook her head. "No _p_ e! Everything is being taken care of," she replied as she put the final plait in her own hair.

"You do realize that it is taking all of my power to not deduce what is going on?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling up at him. "Yes, I know. And I'm very proud of you." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. "Thank you."

"Hmmm, don't thank me yet!"

The sound of a car horn broke them apart.

"That's our ride! Come on." Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand and led him from the bedroom. "It's really not that cold out!" she chided as he pulled on his Belstaff.

"I'll not wear my scarf."

She rolled her eyes, opting for a jumper for herself. He followed her down the stairs and out the door.

"Mycroft is on in this, isn't he?" Sherlock asked as he took in the sight of the black car waiting for them.

Molly smiled to herself. "Possibly!" She got into the car and Sherlock slid in behind her.

He stayed silent as they traveled through the city, taking note of street names.

"We're going to Battersea," he suddenly announced.

"Yep. To the heliport to be exact." She gave Sherlock's arm a tug when she saw him starting to think. "Don't Sherlock!"

He blinked. "I don't understand Molly, and I don't like not understanding. Our wedding is in two days, where are you taking me?"

She cupped his chin in her hand and gave him a gentle kiss. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Are you taking me to Wakehurst? Is this some pre-wedding thing?"

She shook her head, brushing her nose against the tip of his. "I thought I said no questions asked? Just relax Sherlock; you'll have your answers very soon."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the seat cushion, glaring out the window. Molly hated to admit it, but she was rather enjoying having a one-over on him. They reached the heliport and climbed into the waiting helicopter. Once they had put on their headsets she took out a strip of black fabric from her pocket. He eyed her warily.

"Could you put this on?" she requested, waving it in front of him.

"Whatever for?" he scoffed.

"It's part of the surprise. I don't want you to see where we're going."

His look could have melt stone, but luckily Molly was made of much stronger stuff; she waved the blindfold at him again, giving him one of her warmest smiles. His shoulders slumped, he hated (yet also loved) how he couldn't say no to her. "Fine."

With a triumphant smile she slipped the fabric over his eyes and tied it around the back of his head. She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose after she made sure that both of his eyes were covered. He muttered something incoherent as the helicopter took off. She took his hand in hers and kissed the palm as she looked out the window; London slowly growing smaller beneath them.

He laid his head down upon her shoulder. "I hate you," he griped against her neck.

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Sure you do."

He continued to pout for the duration of their flight. Upon arriving at their destination Molly helped him with removing his headset and then getting off of the helicopter. She led him a short distance away then untied the blindfold. He blinked slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. She tucked the piece of fabric into her pocket. "For possible later use," she told him with a cheeky smirk.

He blinked a few more times then looked about him, stopping when he saw a familiar red building nearby. "My parent's house?" he questioned slowly.

"Yes."

He turned and looked at her, a thousand possibilities running through his mind. "Why are we here? And please actually answer me this time!"

Molly smiled. "Of course." She held out her hand to him. "Walk with me?"

His eyes narrowed, that adorable little scrunch forming between his eyebrows. Molly took his face in her hands and placed a kiss there. The scrunch ebbed away.

"Come walk with me, and I'll explain everything. And please wait until I am finished to speak." She stepped away from him, holding out her hand once more.

He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, before placing his hand in hers and allowing her to lead him further away from his parent's house. Once they had gone a considerable distance, Molly hooked her arm through his and laid her head down on his shoulder, letting out a slow sigh. "Please don't hate me for what I am about to tell you."

"Molly I could never-"

"Sherlock."

"Sorry."

She cleared her throat, before lifting up her head. She stopped walking and Sherlock grew still as well. She took his shoulders in her hands and turned him so that he was facing her. She took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. She spoke gently, "Sherlock, the wedding you've been planning is beautiful. Possibly one of the most beautiful weddings, but it's not us. It's not us at all. You know this."

He frowned. "I thought it was what you wanted? Isn't that what all women want? A big, fancy wedding?"

She toyed with one of his shirt buttons. "For some women, yes. For me, no."

He sighed, staring at the ground. "I always do miss something. I fear you will forever be a bit of a mystery to me, Molly."

She smiled, bringing her hand up and tapping a finger beneath his chin so that he looked at her. "Isn't that a good thing though? You seem to always enjoy having a bit of mystery in your life."

He couldn't help but smile, slipping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer to him. "Accurate deduction. Now my turn. I deduce that this is where you want us to have our wedding, on my parents land."

She nodded her head. "Mhmm. It's all been sorted, taken care of. Everything that you planned, it won't all go to naught."

He raised it eyebrow. "It won't?"

"No. Mycroft made sure of it."

Sherlock smiled smugly. "Aha, so he is in on this!"

"Oh yes, I couldn't have done all of this without him. He's been brilliant."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You've put quite a lot of thought into this."

"I have." She laid her head against his chest. "I'm sorry Sherlock."

"Whatever for?" He tightened his arms around her and laid his cheek upon her hair.

"For not having said something sooner. I tried, I really did. But I could never get the words to come out right; I only ended up making you think that I didn't want to marry you."

He ran his hand up and down her back. "I'm sorry for that. I was just allowing my own fear to put fuel to what you were trying to say, I should have just listened to you."

They held each other silently for several minutes.

"That's just something we'll have to continue to work on; communicating better," she reckoned.

Sherlock leaned back so that he could look at her. "I think we do a pretty fair job already."

"Mmmm, but we can do better."

He returned his cheek to the top of her hair. "We're really getting married the day after tomorrow, aren't we?"

She giggled excitedly. "Yes. Yes, we are!" She turned her head and propped her chin on his chest, smiling up at him. "Everyone is here already, except for Sherrinford; his flight got delayed, but he'll be here tomorrow."

"Everyone?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Mhhm! John, Mary, little Emily, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Meena, Mycroft, Anthea and of course your Mum and Dad! All of the people who are the most important to us. I think your Mum has a big dinner planned for tonight."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Molly gave him a slightly pinch. "You need to behave! She is extremely excited about all of this. She wasn't able to do this for Mycroft and Anthea so her exuberance is going to pour out two-fold. Oh, and she's going to make our wedding cake."

"Wonderful," he muttered as he glowered at the ground.

"Hey," Molly said gently as she straightened and cupped the side of his face in her hand, "at least you won't have to face any of this alone."

His eyes met hers, his expression softening before he turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm. "This is true." He smiled.

She stood on her tip toes and kissed him. "Come on, they're all waiting for us."

They made their way back towards his parent's home. Fairy lights were strung up in the garden, swaying gently in the breeze. A large table had been set up, and was covered in candles, flowers, plates and cutlery. Laughter could be heard coming from inside the house, growing louder as they grew closer. The back door opened and Sherlock's mother rushed out towards them.

"The bride and groom!" she cried.

"Oh good Lord," Sherlock muttered in horror.

Molly gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, directly before his mother pulled him into a crushing hug. He was like a board in her arms, but managed to give her a somewhat warm smile when she at last released him. Molly was next, and gladly returned the hug. By the time she stepped away from them everyone else had filed out into the garden, and was smiling at them, even Mycroft. Lestrade, holding a pint in his hand, raised it and nodded towards the two of them before announcing happily, "And so Sherlock Holmes takes a wife!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
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> 
> VOILA!
> 
> It's wedding chapter time! woohoo! You have no idea how excited I am to write this chapter :D I actually wrote bits and pieces of it months ago, so perhaps that will mean I'll be able to update all that much sooner!
> 
> As always, be sure to leave a comment/kudos! I love them so much :)


	36. Sherlock Holmes Takes a Wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? What's this? I'm updating?!
> 
> I know, I am SO SO SORRY for how long it has taken me to get this chapter to you.
> 
> My brain was just refusing to cooperate!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :D

"And so Sherlock Holmes takes a wife!" Lestrade cheered as he raised his pint before taking a generous sip.

"Thank you Gavin," Sherlock muttered.

Molly gave his hand a slight tug. "Behave," she hissed at him.

With a resigned sigh he allowed the chorus of hello's to take a place, even managing a smile and a kiss on little Emily's cheek. She gurgled with happiness, reaching her chubby hands out to him. He took her gratefully into his arms, desperate for any kind of distraction from the over-display of sentiment that was surrounding him.

"Yours and Molly's things have been put into your room, Sherlock," his father told him. "You two can go inside and wash-up if you like. Dinner will be ready in a little while." He held his arms out to Emily, giving his son a knowing look.

Sherlock flashed him a relieved smile before handing over Emily. He then looked about for Molly, finding her talking to Mary, Meena and Anthea. He approached her and she smiled at him. He silently motioned towards the house and she nodded, before following him inside. They made their way up the stairs and as soon as they had entered his bedroom, and the door was shut behind them, he pulled her into his arms.

"Sherlock ...," Molly whispered gently, running her hand through his curls.

He hid his face in her neck, breathing deeply. She held him quietly for several minutes.

"It's just dinner. I'll stay by your side the whole time, all right?" she said to him.

He raised his head and looked at her.

"They're happy for us Sherlock, that's what all this is for," she explained to him as she brought her hands down to cup his face.

"We should have eloped," he groused.

"Oh stop being such a baby! And please try and keep your snide comments to yourself, this is supposed to be a happy time, I don't want you to make anyone upset."

He fixed upon her a withering look, which she duly returned.

"If you behave ... you'll earn a reward!" she sang out, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks.

His eyebrows rose as his eyes sparkled with delight.

"It's just a couple more days, and then we'll be alone, for two whole months." She stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his. He sighed into the kiss, grumbling when she pulled away. She smiled up at him, returning to gently stroking his cheek. "I'm still rather surprised that you're so willing to be away from London for such a long period of time."

He humphed, but quickly smiled as he locked his arms at her lower back. "It's only because I'll be spending that time with you!"

She giggled softly. "You won't get bored?"

"Of you? Impossible!" he scoffed. "I intend to make love to your body in as many ways as is physically possible."

A delightful flush covered her neck and bloomed in her cheeks.

"It _is_  called a Sex Holiday for a reason!" he noted.

She giggled again. " _You_  are giving it that title, that's not what it's actually called."

He pouted. "Well that should be the official title. I'll have Mycroft do something about that!"

Molly shook her head, tracing her fingertip across Sherlock's bottom lip. They stayed like that for several more moments, staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm going to get changed!" she announced before gently extracting herself from his hold and moved towards two suitcases that were stood next to the bed.

"Mycroft, I presume?" Sherlock drawled as he motioned towards them.

"Yes. And Anthea," Molly answered as she laid her suitcase on the floor and unzipped it.

"Bit big for just two days," he noted.

She let out a snort. "They packed for our honeymoon as well, you git." She looked at him over her shoulder. "I still don't know where we're going," she added quickly.

He smiled. "Good," he said then suddenly he scowled when he noticed a large ball of fur curled up on his pillow. "Why is Toby here?" he asked, pointing at the feline.

"Your mum and dad are going to watch him while we're on our honeymoon, so Mrs. Hudson doesn't have to worry about him."

Sherlock continued to glare at the cat. "Must he be on my pillow? Damn beast."

Molly ignored his griping and quickly changed into a light, floral dress, slipping a yellow cardigan on over it. Sherlock hadn't changed what he was wearing, instead stretching out on the bed and watching her move about the room. He jumped to his feet as she slipped on a pair of yellow flats.

"Please behave tonight. Just keep the thought of being rewarded in your mind!" She gave his cheek a quick peck and strode from the room, he stood there and buffered for a few seconds then cleared his throat before following her back down the stairs.

The evening passed without incident. The air staying a pleasant temperature as the light began to slowly fade, the glow of the fairy lights giving the garden an ethereal feeling. Sherlock managed to bite back any sneering remarks, mainly due to the fact that Molly kept one hand on his leg, every once in a while brushing her fingers along his inner thigh.

As the meal commenced Sherlock couldn't help but be rather surprised by how well-behaved his mother was being. He had expected her to tell everyone how she had given up hope that any of her boys would find love, let alone be married. But she had kept silent on the subject; instead keeping the conservation light and pleasant.

By the time they were eating dessert though, Sherlock had had enough. He wanted nothing more than to be upstairs in his bedroom, with his cock buried deep inside of Molly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, silently reciting the elements of the Periodic Table until his straining erection ebbed away. Molly was oblivious to his discomfort, having been conversing with Siger for the passed five minutes.

Sherlock caught her attention when he slipped his hand onto her leg, gently pushing up her dress so that he could stroke her inner thigh with his fingertips; just like she had been doing with him earlier. She turned and looked at him, placing her hand on top of his.

"You all right?" she asked him.

"Tired," he answered in a low murmur.

She frowned, taking in his exhausted expression. He had slept, but no where near as much as he usually would after returning from a grueling case. She reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"You should go to bed then, you need your rest. I don't want a sleepy groom waiting for me at the altar!" she said to him.

He chuckled. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. They'll all understand. Go on up, I'll be there in a few minutes." She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He stood and made his way inside without speaking a word to anyone. Molly made apologies for him, and tried to fight back a blush when she saw Mary give her a knowing look.

"Go right on up dear," Marian said to her. "It's quite all right. That boy of mine will always require a little extra care."

Molly gave her an appreciative smile and hurried inside, making her way up the stairs. As she approached the door to his bedroom it swung open and Sherlock pulled her inside. She let out a squeak as he kissed her hungrily.

"Sherlock...," she breathed against his lips as he lifted her up, kicking the door shut before pressing her into it. She locked her legs around his hips and whimpered as he pushed up her dress and rocked his himself against her; settling his erection directly in line with her core. "I thought you were tired!" she hissed out.

"I am tired. But I need you more. I want my reward!" With one hand he undid his trousers, opening them enough to release his aching cock. He gave it a few pumps before pushing her knickers to the side with a swipe of his thumb, just barely touching her clit, so that he could settle his cock head directly at her entrance.

She let out a low moan as he slid inside of her with ease. He didn't stop until he was fully seated, his palm pressed flat against the door. She moaned again, clutching tightly at his shoulders.

"You have to keep quiet, Molly," he instructed her, his voice dropping to a deep timbre. He kept his movements slow and languid. Hissing out a breath when she moved her hands down to cup at his arse as he continued to rock against her, in just the right away so that his pelvis pressed her clit.

Sherlock mouthed at her throat as she leaned her head back, her lips parted and soft moans escaping her as he continued to fill her slowly, repeatedly. She whimpered encouragement, telling him how good he felt inside of her. He increased his pace ever so slightly, being careful to not make too much noise, not wanting the door to rattle.

Molly was cursing now beneath her breath, a sure sign that she was close. He rocked his hips against hers, in just the right way, before kissing her to drown out her cry of release. They broke apart for breath and he pressed his forehead to hers, staring directly into her eyes as he gave one final thrust.

"Molly!" he groaned out as he came inside of her.

She clutched at his face and kissed him deeply. A few moments later he carried her to the bed and they collapsed upon it, breathing heavily. Once they caught their breath, and shared a few kisses, they cleaned themselves up. Sherlock changed into his pyjamas and sprawled himself out across the mattress, making Molly giggle. He noted that she hadn't changed.

"Do you mind?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Just stay until I fall asleep?"

She smiled, curling her body close to his. "All right."

He kissed her gently then closed his eyes. Molly watched him silently, becoming curious when he suddenly smiled.

"What?" she asked him, knowing that he hadn't yet fallen asleep.

"You're marrying me the day after tomorrow," he replied, keeping his eyes closed.

She laughed softly. "Yes. I am." She pressed a light kiss to the tip of his nose. "Go to sleep."

Within minutes he was snoring quietly. Molly stayed beside him for a little while longer, admiring the fact that he looked almost childlike when he slept. Once she knew that he was fast asleep she slowly slipped from the bed and returned downstairs.

An assembly line of sorts had been formed during her absence. The food was being put away and the dishes washed up. The cleaning was nearly done, thus allowing Marian to shoo Molly from the kitchen. She stepped into the lounge and found Siger sat before the unlit fireplace. He was sipping from a glass of whiskey.

"Ahh, you've been kicked out as well?" he asked her with a smile, beckoning to the chair across from him.

Molly sat, smiling.

"My wife considers me a menace in the kitchen. It is an area strictly off-limits to me," he explained to her.

Molly giggled. "That's sounds a bit like Sherlock when he's doing experiments!" She rolled her eyes, sighing wearily.

Siger chuckled. "Yes, I am quite certain that my son is a menace; in more ways than one."

"Mmm … he certainly can be. But I wouldn't want him any other way."

Siger put down his drink and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "Molly, I've wanted to say this to you for some time now …" He stared down at his hands for a moment swallowing thickly before he looked up at her, and when she saw that there were tears in his eyes she felt her throat constrict. He took in a breath before letting it out slowly. "I want to thank you, for saving my son."

Molly quick rose to her feet and stepped over to Siger. He stood as well and quickly enveloped her into one of the warmest hugs she had ever received. It made her think of her own dear father. A few moments later the pair of them separated both sniffling slightly, and wiping at their eyes.

"You are most welcome Siger," she said to him softly.

They returned to their chairs. Siger took up his whiskey and drained the glass.

"You may not realize it, but you've saved my son in more ways than just his jump from the roof of St. Bart's. We know about his drug relapse, and how upset you were about it." He gave Molly a pointed look, letting her know that they were aware of how she had slapped Sherlock. "When the news reached us it nearly broke my wife's heart; she's always been so worried about him. And it was only shortly before he was to be sent to his  _exile_ that we learned more about you. I'm glad he finally got his head out of his arse and realized how important you were to him and put his feelings into action." Siger swallowed thickly once more. "I'm honoured to be walking you down the aisle, and I am more than honoured to be having you as a daughter-in-law."

Molly quickly wiped away a few more tears that had fallen. "I feel very blessed to have a family again."

Their quiet moment together became broken as everyone from the kitchen came walking in. Goodbyes and goodnights were exchanged as Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mary, John, little Emily and Meena made their exit to go to their hotel. Once they had left Molly decided to go for a short walk before retiring to bed. Anthea and Mycroft had already disappeared upstairs, and Siger and Marian had settled into a quick card game.

The night was a bit cool, but Molly didn't mind. She slowly made her way down the street, basking in the quiet. No one else was around, she found it very peaceful. Just as she was about to turn around and head back to the house a figure a short distance ahead of her caught her eye. She paused, noting that the person looked familiar. For a brief moment she thought that it was Sherlock, but then realized that it was in fact someone else. If anything, the suitcase was what gave it away.

"Sherrinford!" she cried, rushing towards him.

He stopped walking and dropped his suitcase, just as Molly pummeled into him.

"I'm so happy you're here!"

He laughed as he returned her hug.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow?" she asked him as she stepped back, out of his embrace.

He smiled at her. "I managed to get on an earlier flight. I'm not a snob like my brothers; I was perfectly fine with not flying first class."

She returned his smile. "Did you walk the whole way from the train station?"

"Yes. I figured why not? It's a nice night and I've been cooped up for hours, I was desperate for some fresh air." He picked up his suitcase and they started to walk towards the house.

"It's wonderful seeing you again. I'm so happy you were able to come," she said to him as she tugged her cardigan a bit closer around her.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world! Has Sherlock been behaving himself?"

Molly giggled. "Yes. I've conjured up a few ways to keep him in line," she said with an impish twinkle in her eyes.

"Good. My brother needs that." Suddenly he stopped walking and turned to face her. He reached out and took her hand. "Molly, I just want to say to you how happy I am that I will soon be able to call you my sister … and also …" he paused, giving her hand a tender squeeze, "…how grateful I am for all of the help you have given Sherlock, for being there for him. He's a very lucky man."

Molly stepped closer to Sherrinford and wrapped her arms around him as he let go of her hand. They held each other quietly for a few moments. When they separated she placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

"I'm happy to call you my brother. It's a wonderful feeling really, I haven't had any family for so long," she said to him as they continued on towards the house.

Upon reaching it she managed to quietly slip away, his parents exuberant by the fact that he was able to arrive earlier than expected. She quietly climbed the stairs and made her way down the hall, catching a faint laugh and soft squeal of delight as she walked passed Mycroft's bedroom. Molly couldn't help but chuckle.

She entered Sherlock's bedroom and was greeted by his soft snores coming from the bed. She quietly undressed slipping on a ratty t-shirt of his, so that she was only wearing that and her knickers. When she lifted up the sheet and blanket, Sherlock rolled onto his side facing her. His eyes opened slowly as she slid under the covers.

"S'that you Mrs. Holmes?" he mumbled.

Molly giggled, before letting out a happy hum as he reached out for her, pulling her close. "I'm not Mrs. Holmes yet, you silly! Go back to sleep." She kissed the tip of his nose.

He grumbled as his eyes dropped closed, and he snuggled against her.

"You're brother is here," she told him as she ran her hand up and down his back.

Sherlock let out a grunt, causing her to giggle yet again. He nipped at her collar bone, only for seconds later to be snoring once more.

She didn't fall asleep straight away; instead she lay there snuggled against Sherlock's warmth, pondering to herself how she had managed to become so blessed. If anyone had told her a year ago that this is where she would be now, she would have laughed in their face.

* * *

Molly was sat in the lounge, drinking a cup of tea and a biscuit when Sherlock came stumbling in, looking barely awake.

"Morning sleepyhead," she said to him.

He yawned loud and wide, rubbing at his face before running his fingers through his scraggly curls. "Morning," he said, just as he began to yawn again.

"I'm surprised you're awake." She shifted over so that he could collapse beside her.

"You left the bed, I was cold." He leaned into her, settling his head against her shoulder. "Can I have some of your tea?"

She handed him her cup and he took a generous sip. Suddenly his text tone rang out. Sherlock shoved his hand into the pocket of his dressing gown. "Mmm. Wiggins," he muttered as he began to type on his mobile.

"I thought you invited him to the wedding?" Molly asked, taking her cup back.

"I did. He's still in London taking care of a few things; he should be here later tonight," Sherlock replied, not looking up from his phone.

"I hope he won't upset your parents, or Mycroft … or Mary! Seeing as he did drug them all."

Sherlock grimaced. "Let bygones be bygones?" he asked as he peered up at her.

Molly snorted, amused by the fact that he would fall back onto an old saying. "We can only hope."

He dropped his mobile back into his pocket before sliding his arms around her waist and nuzzling at her neck. "Can I entice you in coming back to bed?" he asked her, giving her skin the tiniest of nibbles.

She shook her head. "No. There are things that need to be done for the wedding and I'm desperate for a shower."

He slumped against her, grumbling out, "It's not too late to elope."

She shook her head again. "Not a chance. Your parents would never forgive us if we did such a thing."

He let out a very long, dramatic sigh. "It's quite annoying when you're right."

Molly giggled, turning her head to place a kiss upon his lips. "Go eat some breakfast, I'm going to shower."

He had no choice but to let go of her, watching as she strode from the room.

A short while later she came walking down the stairs, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of loose trousers and a cozy blouse. She was surprised to find Sherlock waiting for her, holding a large basket. He had showered as well, now wearing a pair of black trousers and a white button-up.

"What's this?" she asked him, nodding towards the basket, laughter tinkling in from the direction of the kitchen.

"We're going on a picnic!" he announced.

"We are?" she said as she reached the final step.

"Yes. We are being kicked out of the house on the grounds of there already being enough people to help, and I've been told, well threatened more-like, to take you on a picnic."

Molly giggled. "Your mother is quite a force to be reckoned with."

He hummed in agreement. "Shall we?" He picked up a nearby blanket and walked towards the front door, he opened it and Molly walked through.  
The day was an overcast one, the air cool, but not uncomfortable. Sherlock led her away from the house, towards a field where there was a small expanse of trees beyond. As soon as the house disappeared from view he put down the basket, unfolded the blanket and spread it out over the ground. He sat and patted the spot next to him. Molly sat and he slipped his arm around her before pressing his lips to hers in a warm, slow kiss.

"Hungry?" he asked her, a few moments later, smoothing his hand up and down the length of her arm.

She shook her head. "Not at the moment."

He smiled. "Good," he said before he nudged her gently down onto her back.

They kissed for a time, the sun faintly peeking through the clouds, dancing between the leaves. A breeze rustled across Sherlock's curls, mussing them slightly. Molly laughed, smiling at him before she reached up and picked out a leaf that had blown into his hair.

"What?" she asked him, as he continued to stare down at her silently.

He shook his head, as if he were dismissing several thoughts at once. "It's just ...," his voice trailed off as he slowly stroked her cheek with his fingertip. He kissed her gently, her lips warm and soft against his, before he moved to nuzzle her cheek. "You amaze Molly," he murmured. He shifted so that their gaze could meet once more. "I never thought that I would ever be able to feel so much love for another person."

She pulled him back down to her, kissing him deeply, wanting him to know that she too was amazed by the all-encompassing love that she felt.

They didn't return to the house until several hours later, when a gentle rain had started to fall. As they approached they saw that there was a car waiting outside, and Siger, Mycroft and Sherrinford were stood beside it. Sherlock quickly deduced what was going on, but allowed his father to explain.

"The house has been declared for woman only, we will be spending the night at a hotel," Siger said to Molly.

She took the basket from Sherlock, but waited until his father and brothers had gotten into the car before she stood on her tiptoes and gave Sherlock a kiss. "See you tomorrow then," she spoke softly.

Sherlock frowned.

"It's just one night."

He nodded but didn't speak a word as he got into the car. Molly watched as it drove off then walked into the house. She put down the blanket and carried the basket into the kitchen where Meena, Mary, Anthea and Marian were sat. Emily was on the floor on a blanket playing with building blocks. She smiled happily at Molly and waved a bright red block in the air.

"The boys have left then?" Marian asked.

"Yes," Molly answered as she placed the picnic basket on the floor and sat herself down next to Emily.

"Enjoy your picnic?" Meena enquired, her eyes twinkling.

"Errr, uhm yes." Molly's ears became tinged a faint pink as she stacked a blue, yellow and red block, and Emily let out an excited squeal of delight as she knocked them over. Molly smiled at her before looking up at Marian. "Is everything taken care of? Our help wasn't needed at all?"

Marian looked quite pleased with herself. "Everything is set, the cake has been made, the chef Sherlock hired has arrived and I checked and double checked that he had all that he required. The garden has been fully set-up, the bouquets will be dropped off in the morning and everyone's dresses have been steamed and are hanging up the in spare room. There is not a single thing you to need to do Molly, Sherlock's diagrams have been most helpful"

Molly let out a laugh as she smiled up at her. "Thank you Marian. Thank you, to all of you."

The four women returned her smile.

Later that evening, after they had eaten a light dinner that Marian had made for them, Molly managed to get Meena alone. Mary had gone upstairs to give Emily a bath and put her to bed, and Anthea was helping Marian wash up.

"So … what do you think of Sherrinford?" Molly asked Meena.

Meena's cheeks instantly burned a deep red. "Oh, he's absolutely lovely. And I hate him for it because he just seems too perfect. He can't possibly be as wonderful as he appears to be, can he?"

Molly shrugged. "It might be. I've not spent a lot of time with him, but the time that I have spent has always been enjoyable. Does he seem to like you?"

Meena's blush spread to her neck. "I think so; we hardly left each other's side all day. And we just chatted constantly, about everything. I never felt uncomfortable or awkward in his presence, not once. It's a very strange experience."

Molly gave her a hug. "I wish you all the luck in the world."

Meena giggled and shook her head. When Mary came back downstairs Molly managed to slip away unnoticed. She wanted to have a look at her wedding dress, having not seen it since the day she had tried it on in Meena's flat. She quietly climbed the stairs and moved down the hall, passed the Holmes' bedrooms until she reached the furthermost one at the end of the hall. She stepped inside and switched on the light.

Molly's breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten how beautiful the dress was. She smiled as she approached; noting that Marian had taken the time to lay out the shoes and jewelry that each of them would be wearing. And that was when she saw them, the earrings. Molly's mouth dropped open then she gave a little jump when she heard a noise behind her.

"I had a feeling you'd come up here," Marian said gently to her. "I didn't mean to scare you though, sorry about that! Do you like them?" she nodded towards the earrings that Molly was holding.

Molly nodded, returning her gaze to them. "Yes, they're beautiful. Thank you."

Marian smiled. "I'm glad that they match your dress." Suddenly she sniffed quite loudly, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, as tears pooled in her eyes. "Molly, I just want to-to thank you for helping to keep my William alive!"

Molly quickly put down the earrings and pulled Marian into a hug. They held each other for a short while as Marian continued to sniffle. Molly was overwhelmed by the amount of thanks she had received. She had known when she had agreed to help Sherlock survive the fall that she was doing a lot for him, but she had never taken into full consideration the impact on his family.

When they pulled apart Marian quickly dried her eyes and let out a relieved breath before saying, "I'll leave you to it then." She quickly left the room and Molly could only think that perhaps she was not used to such a display of emotions. After a moment she turned back around and faced her dress, fingering the silky fabric.

Her text tone pinged and she pulled her mobile from her pocket. She was expecting it to be from Sherlock, but was surprised to see that it was in fact from Mycroft. When she read his message a huge smile spread across her face, and she quickly hurried back downstairs. She found Anthea alone in the lounge and approached her.

"Mycroft just gave me wonderful news!" Molly said to her. "He was able to get a bridesmaid dress made for you. I had asked him if it was at all possible, and clearly he worked his British Government magic!"

Anthea looked shocked for a brief moment then laughed and pulled Molly into a hug. "I'm honoured that you want me to be in your wedding party.

"Of course! You're family, and now a very dear friend."

Mary, Meena and Marian came walking in and the five of them settled themselves comfortably and spent the rest of the evening laughing and sharing stories of married life.

It was nearing midnight by the time they dispersed to their rooms. Molly changed into her pyjamas, yawning every few moments. She had just gotten into bed, tucking the blankets around her as she settled down with her phone. She had all intentions of texting Sherlock, but clearly that was not going to be needed when suddenly the window opened and he climbed into the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" she hissed beneath her breath.

"I'm not spending the night away from you," he explained in a hoarse whisper.

"Then close your eyes!" she shrieked as she dove beneath the covers.

Sherlock scoffed. "Whatever for?"

"The groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!" she explained to him from beneath the sheet.

He scoffed again. "Don't be ridiculous, Molly! That's just a silly tradition!"

"A silly tradition that I think we can have a bit of fun with!" she sang out from beneath the sheet.

A moment's silence followed before he said, "Is that so?"

"Yes."

She could practically hear the wheels in his head turning.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" he asked her, moving closer to the bed.

She giggled pulling the sheet closer around her. "Close your eyes and you'll find out!"

"Fine," he grumbled.

The sound of him clapping his hands onto his face reached her ears. She peeked cautiously from beneath the sheet. "Don't move!" she said to him, keeping her eyes locked on his, ready to dive once more under the covers if he were to drop his hands way.

His mouth formed a scowl as she walked across the room. He heard her rummaging in her suitcase, followed by the soft pad of her footsteps as she walked towards him.

"Ok, Sherlock. Take your hands away, but keep your eyes closed."

He sighed, but did as she said, and felt a strip of silk slide over his face. "Molly … are you blindfolding me?"

Her low laugh was filled with mirth. "Yes. I am!"

"So that's what you meant when you said 'for possible later use.' Minx," he muttered beneath his breath, only making her laughter grow in volume.

She finished tying the silk behind his head and adjusted it slightly. "Can you see at all?" She waved her hand in front of his face.

"No _p_ e." He popped the 'p', slightly more loudly than usual.

She laughed again. "Just relax, enjoy this."

He let out a slow, exhalation of air. She slowly circled him, taking in the sight of his body as he stood in the middle of the room.

"Would you like me to tell you what I'm going to do? Or would you rather be kept guessing?" she ran her hand along the curve of his arse as she asked him this.

"Gues-guessing's good," he stammered out.

"All right." She moved until she was stood directly in front of him. "Keep your hands down." For several moments she looked at him, enjoying being able to gaze upon his face without being gazed at in return. It was an odd sort of victorious sensation. She then moved down onto her knees and quickly untied his shoes. She gave his right leg a tap and he lifted it so that she could slip off his shoe and sock. She then repeated the same on his left.

She stood and placed her hands on his chest, slowly moving them inward until her fingertips met the buttons of his shirt. Ever so slowly she popped them open, and once they were each unbuttoned she slipped her hands beneath the shirt and ran her fingers over his chest, to his shoulders. She pushed back the fabric, gently tugging it down his arms; it hung there as she undid the buttons on his cuffs, before falling to land in a heap on the floor. With a kick of one foot she pushed it away.

She returned her hands to his chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers and the rise and fall as he breathed. She could also feel the rapid beating of his heart. Taking a step forward she placed a kiss directly over the spot, before dipping her head a bit further down in order to wrap her lips around his left nipple and giving it a gentle suckle. Sherlock gasped then moaned as she nibbled at his skin. She pulled her mouth away and repeated the same action, this time with his right nipple, and he let out another gasp.

She continued to switch from one nipple to the other, between peppering his chest with kisses and little nips with her teeth, as she undid the button and zip of his trousers. All it took was a slight push at the hips to begin the descent of the fabric. It pooled at his ankles, his erection springing free.

"You never fail to disappoint with a lack of pants!" she told him before stepping away, watching as Sherlock stood there, now breathing heavily. Taking his hand in hers she gave him a gentle pull forward, he stepped out of his trousers, and reached out blindly with his other hand. When his knees bumped against the mattress he stumbled slightly.

"Lie down, Sherlock; I'll only be a moment. And don't you dare touch the blindfold!" she instructed.

He humphed, climbing clumsily onto the bed. Molly watched, mesmerized by the sight of his bare arse and his cock bobbing up and down as he fell onto his back. She couldn't help but giggle when she saw his disgruntled expression. She quickly took off her t-shirt, pyjama bottoms, and knickers before getting onto the bed. He leaned his head back into the pillow as she knelt beside him. For a few moments she allowed her gaze to wander over his naked body, drinking in the sight of him.

"Molly …!"

She bit down on her bottom lip, stifling another giggle. Leaning forward, being careful not to allow any part of her body to brush up against him, she gave his left hip bone a kiss before moving a bit further forward in order to give his cock a quick swipe with her tongue.

Sherlock gasped then moaned. She pulled away, and slid off of the bed.

"Molly?"

It was fascinating to her, to see Sherlock like this, so completely in her control. It was almost frightening, but more so exhilarating. She walked around to the other side of the bed, keeping her movements as silent as possible. She climbed back up onto the mattress, Sherlock turning his head towards her. She gave his right hip bone a kiss, followed by another quick swipe to his cock.

She glanced upwards, taking note of his parted lips and erratic breathing. She took the head between her lips and swirled her tongue around the frenulum before slipping it over the glans. He moaned again. She sat up and straddled his knees, leaning forward so that she could hover her mouth directly over his glistening tip, allowing her breath to ghost over him. His entire body shuddered, a low growl erupting from his throat. He lifted up his hands, beginning to reach out for her.

She sat up quickly, moving away from his grasp. "Ahh, ahh, ahh! Keep your hands down, or I'll use those handcuffs I know you stole from Lestrade. And you need to keep quiet; no one can know that you're in here!"

Sherlock breathed loudly through his nose, dropping his hands back down to the mattress. His cock gave a prominent twitch, letting her know that he rather liked the thought of being restrained. She tucked that thought away for another time.

With a cheeky little grin Molly twisted her engagement ring until the diamond was on the underside of her finger. She then loosely wrapped her ring-clad hand about his cock and slowly moved it up and down; the diamond brushing against his length. Sherlock's hips stuttered, shocked by the sensation. She giggled softly before taking the tip in her mouth, licking him as if he were a lolly, all the while continuing to pump him slowly with her hand.

"Christ! Molly!" He was groaning softly now, his hands clutching tightly at the bed sheets.

She released him from her hand, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth before allowing him to slip all the way out. She glanced up at him, he was panting heavily. With a pleased smile she once more took his length into her mouth, and began bobbing her head up and down, varying from dragging her tongue across the tip to taking him back into her mouth and giving him gentle sucks.

Sherlock was struggling to keep himself from groaning loudly, his head thrown back against the pillow, his knuckles white from fisting the sheets.

"Molly I'm going to-," the rest of his sentence got caught off by a low moan as she slipped him out of her mouth taking only the tip of his cock between her lips and sucking on him once again as if he were a lolly.

She then released him entirely and pulled herself upwards until she was hovering directly over him. He was panting heavily, hot puffs of his breath hitting her face. She almost wished that she could see his lust-glazed eyes.

"Deglutition," she murmured to him in explanation. "You know what the means don't you?"

"The action or process of swallowing," he gasped out. "Damn."

She smiled again then slipped her body downwards taking his cock once more into her mouth.

His hands were still holding tightly onto the sheets as she continued her ministrations upon him. When she cupped his bollocks and gave them a gentle squeeze, he was done for. He emptied himself down her throat, turning his head to press his face into the pillow, groaning wildly.

She didn't release him until she had swallowed every last drop. With his cock now softened, she allowed him to slip from her mouth, planting a kiss upon the tip before stretching herself alongside him.

After several minutes passed, and he had caught his breath, he turned towards her and blindly grabbed her about the hips before proceeding to roll them over until his body was covering hers. He then ripped off the blindfold, and gazed down at her triumphantly.

"Sherlock!" she shrieked, trying her hardest to sound both disappointed and stern, but failing miserably.

"Molly, it's a silly tradition, and you and I both know that we're not ones for following with tradition." He covered her mouth with his and gave her a long, deep kiss.

She sighed against his lips, knowing that he was right, bringing her hands up to card her fingers in his hair.

"I think I'm going to have to use the blindfold on you sometime …," he murmured against her lips.

Her answering moan made his hips buck slightly.

"Do you like the thought of that? Not being able to see what I'm going to do to you?" He had wrapped his hand around his softened cock, dragging the tip of it along the outside of her slit.

"Fuck, yes!" she panted out.

He placed a kiss along the length of her neck, smiling against her skin. He then released his cock from his hold, pushing his body up, steadying himself on both of his hands.

"What are you doing?" she whimpered, gazing up at him, not liking in the slightest the loss of his body heat above her.

"Re-committing to memory your body in my Mind Palace," he answered, dropping his mouth down to her breast and taking her nipple between his teeth.

Molly gasped slightly as he worked his mouth on her. "Am I going somewhere?"

He lifted his head, releasing her breast with a quiet pop. "No. But tomorrow you'll be my wife."

She laughed softly, cupping his face in her hands. "My body will still be the same; I'm not going to change."

"But in my Mind Palace you will."

"Ohh … so you mean there are files: Molly Hooper, my pathologist, Molly Hooper, my girlfriend," Sherlock made a face when she said this, "and Molly Hooper, my fiancée?"

He glanced away for a moment, then back to her. "I wouldn't exactly say files … more like separate rooms."

This time she giggled. "Sherlock … why do you allow me to take up so much of your Mind Palace?"

"Mmm … because you're the Queen of it!" He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, just as her eyes widened.

"I'm the Queen … of your Mind Palace?" she questioned, her eyes still wide, when he pulled away.

"Yes. Didn't I ever tell you?"

She shook her head. "No."

He paused, "Oh … I thought I did, that must have been one of those moments …"

"Buffering mode?"

His mouth gave a slight twitch.

She giggled again. "So I'm the Queen, huh?"

His eyes met hers. "Yes. You helped me to survive the gun wound, when Mary shot me."

"I-I did?"

He bumped his nose against hers. "Yes, you did."

"I never knew that."

He sighed slowly, his eyes closing. "Something else I thought I told you."

She was still cradling his face in her hands; she gave him a gentle tug so that their lips could meet once more. As the kiss deepened she gave her hips a slight shift, bringing up her thighs to rest on either side of his waist.

"Molly!" he gasped out against her lips, her movements having caused his cock to press directly up against her wet folds. He groaned when he came to realize that he had become hard once more.

She smiled. "Make love to me Sherlock. I know that you have a plethora of data of my body stored in your Mind Palace; please … just make love to me!"

He nodded, his forehead brushing up against hers. He lifted up his body, tilting his hips just so, so that when he dropped himself back down and instantly, and with ease, they became connected.

"Oh!" Molly had wrapped her arms about his neck, holding him close as he filled her to the hilt.

He reached back, grabbing her ankles and lifting them up until they came to rest directly where his arse creased to meet his thighs.

"Mmm…"

He took his time, keeping his movements slow. She rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. She was panting into his neck, and then moaning into his ear as he gave several hard thrusts before returning to a slower pace.

"Oh God! Mmmm!"

Molly was clinging to him tightly now, her thighs grasping onto his hips, her heels digging into his arse as she arched her back, pressing herself up against him.

Sherlock swore loudly, giving her several solid thrusts, knowing that she was close, so close, and wanting to come with her.

"God Sherlock! YES! Oh!"

Her fingernails were surely leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin, but he didn't care, all that mattered now was the joint-feeling that their bodies were creating together.

"Molly!" he gasped out, then moaned her name as his hips grew still, pressing them against hers.

His name was a whimper on her lips as her body shuddered. She held tightly onto him, burrowing her nose into his neck. When he felt wetness upon his skin he lifted up his head and looked down at her.

"Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, a fresh batch of tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't know. I think I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Sherlock leaned down and kissed away the tears that had fallen, before pressing his lips gently to hers, allowing her to taste the saltiness.

"Please don't cry," he murmured softly to her.

He moved onto his side, so that he wasn't crushing her with his weight, and pulled her close up against him.

She sniffled slightly. "These aren't sad tears Sherlock, they're happy ones." A few more fell onto his chest.

He ran his hand up and down her back, his fingertips touching her spinal column. "Are they?" He nuzzled her hair with his nose.

"Yes. I am very happy. I think that everything that is about to happen, just sort of hit me."

"Precisely when I brought you to orgasm?"

She chuckled slightly, hiding her face in his chest. "Yes, it would seem so. Orgasms are a very emotional experience."  
"Mmm."

She moved so that they were now eye to eye, and he reached up to brush away with his thumb the few tears that had fallen. "We're getting married tomorrow," she spoke softly.

He shifted forward so that their noses were touching. "Yes, we are."

They shared a smile before Molly tucked her head beneath his chin. He draped his arm over her, holding her close.

* * *

The sky was just beginning to glow a faint yellow when Sherlock began to stir. Molly sighed, curling closer up against him. He slipped his arm over her hip, splaying his hand across her lower back.

"You should go, before anyone realizes that you're here," her voice was tinged with regret as she spoke this.

He grumbled, burrowing his face into the curve of her neck. "Must I?"

"Mmm, yes, unless you wish to face the wrath of Mary!"

He chuckled. "She shot me once; I don't think I wish for her to do so again." He then sighed, breathing heavily into Molly's skin.

"We'll be seeing each other in a few hours, Sherlock!"

He sighed again. "Yes, but I won't be able to be alone with you for who knows how long!"

She laughed softly, running her hand through his mussed up curls. "We may be able to sneak off for a little while, it is our wedding!"

He lifted up his head and gazed down at her. "I like your thinking!"

She let out giggle before she tugged him downwards for a kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip.

He moaned softly, deepening the kiss, then groaned in annoyance as he forced himself to pull away from her and sat up. "Damn you for being so enticing," he muttered.

She giggled again, giving him a slight shove. "GO! Before someone sees you!"

He continued to grumble beneath his breath as he pulled on his clothes. She had tucked the sheet around herself, leaning back against the pillows as she watched him. Once he was fully dressed he knelt on the bed and kissed her. "In a few hours you will be my wife!" he declared.

She smiled against his lips as she kissed him back. "And you will be my husband. Now go! So you can get ready!"

He huffed but did as she asked, moving off the bed and towards the window. Upon reaching it he turned about and looked at her.

"See you in a bit!" she said to him.

He gave a nod and quietly opened the window before climbing out. Once he had disappeared from view Molly slid down onto her back and began to giggle, nearly uncontrollably. She felt ridiculously happy and excited. When she heard movement outside in the hall she shot up and grabbed her pyjamas and pulled them on. The moment she became fully dressed there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in!" she called out, laying back down upon the bed.

Meena stepped inside and shut the door behind her, grinning widely at her friend. Molly smiled back at her. Then Meena's smile faltered slightly and she sniffed the air, Molly felt her cheeks blush.

"Sherlock has been here, hasn't he?" Meena asked with her hands on her hips.

Molly's blush deepened. "Why, why do you think that?"

Meena rolled her eyes. "The room reeks of sex!"

Molly squeaked slightly and hid her face in the pillow as Meena walked over to the window and pushed it open wider.

"That man has no respect for traditions!" she exclaimed, moving back towards the bed, her hands still on her hips.

Molly raised her head; her cheeks still a bright red. "Well neither do I, seeing as I allowed him to stay."

Meena let out an undignified snort. "Oh please. I bet he didn't even have to beg!"

"Sherlock never begs."

Meena raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm ... I think that's something you need to work on!"

Molly's blush deepened.

"Well, I won't tell Mary, if you won't!" Meena declared, throwing her hands up into the air.

Molly let out a breath of relief. "I wasn't planning on it!"

Meena nodded. "Good idea. Anyway, I'm here to usher you downstairs. Mummy Holmes is making us breakfast!"

After a quick wash-up in the loo Molly made her way down to the kitchen. A chorus of good morning's greeted her, along with a happy coo from Emily.

Excited chit-chat was exchanged as they ate their way through the delicious breakfast that Marian had made them. Molly found though that it was difficult for her to eat anything. She wasn't usually a nervous sort of person, but her stomach was currently twisted into knots. She was relieved when the breakfast was over and they could begin to get ready.

Several hours later she was freshly showered, her hair dried and styled so that it hung down her back in soft tendrils. Marian's earrings glistened in the light as they hung from her ears. Meena had wanted to do her makeup for her but Molly had put her foot down, knowing that if she had allowed her she would have been wearing for more than she was used to. And Sherlock wouldn't have liked it either. Instead she applied a faint glittery eye shadow and a soft brown pencil to her eyes, forgoing mascara and lipstick.

Molly was now stood before the floor length mirror in Sherlock's room. She couldn't believe what was about to happen in a short time. After running her palms down the sides of her dress she let out a slow breath when a sudden knock on the door broke her from her thoughts.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"The man you are about to marry," came the muffled reply.

She bit down on her bottom lip, thinking about the fact that Meena would have her head if she let him in. But in all honesty, she didn't care. If Sherlock wanted to see her then see her he would.

"Molly ... let me in!"

She chuckled at his impatience as she moved towards the door. "Don't have your lock-picking tools on you?" she asked with a smile, as she opened it.

He didn't answer her question. Instead he merely stared at her, open-mouthed. She felt herself blush at the intensity of his gaze. When he didn't speak after a whole minute passed, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, closing the door. She looked him over, admiring the grey suit that he was wearing. She was still holding onto his hand.

"Sherlock?" She reached up with her other hand and brushed her fingers across his cheek.

He blinked rapidly then swallowed. He slowly let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding in. He then let go of her hand and reached up to cradle her head before pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

"You look beautiful," he murmured after they parted for breath.

"I thought beauty was a social construct?" she said to him with a saucy smile.

Oh hush!" He kissed her again. But when he dropped his hands down to her waist to pull her closer, she stepped away from him, placing her hands on his chest.

"There will be plenty of time for that later. You should be downstairs with John and your brothers!"

He huffed slightly then smiled as he slipped his hand into the inside of his suit jacket. "I did come here with more of a purpose then just to kiss you." He pulled out a long, narrow box. "I wanted to give you this." He held it out to her.

She took the box, and when she opened it she smiled widely. Nestled against the silk was a small golden bee, strung on a thin gold chain.

"Do you like it?" he asked her.

She looked up at him, continuing to smile. "I love it!"

He stepped closer to her and lifted it from the silk. "Turn about. I'll put it on you."

She did as he asked and he clasped it about her neck. He then ducked his head down and placed a kiss where her neck and shoulder met.

"For my honey bee," he murmured against her skin.

Molly giggled softly then turned about. "I have something for you as well." She walked over to her suitcase and opened it up. Once she had found what she was looking for she walked back over to Sherlock. "I was going to give this to Mary to have her give it to you, but I'm glad that I can do so myself. I bought these while I was in Paris." She held the small package out to him.

He quickly ripped the wrapping and let out a laugh when he saw what it was. She had bought him bee cuff-links.

"Great minds think alike, eh?" she asked him.

They shared a sweet, brief kiss before she helped him to put them on.

"You really should get back downstairs. There is a wedding about to take place!" she told him.

He pouted. "Must I?"

She tilted her head to the side. "You do still want to marry me, don't you?"

His eyes widened and he quickly grabbed her about the waist, hooking his arms around her lower back. "Of course I do. I just wish it was over and done with already ... so that we could get to the consummation."

Molly giggled as he kissed her. After a few moments she pushed him away. "Mary and Meena are bound to come in at any moment, you really should get downstairs!"

He humphed but stepped away from her with a resigned sigh. "One last chance Molly, are you certain you want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, smiling widely. "I've never doubted it for a second."

"Good."

They shared one more smile before he left the room. But only a mere smattering of seconds passed before he returned. His eyes were wide and wild, and his hair was sticking out in all directions, a clear sign that he had run his hands through it.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, her heart beating a solid thud in her chest.

Sherlock paced back and forth, not looking at her, breathing heavily. "I-I've forgotten something, something important, something vital for the wedding!" he spat out, a flush covering his cheeks.

"What did you forget?" she asked gently, slowly approaching him. When her hands came to rest on his arms he stopped his pacing and looked down. He covered her hands with his own.

He swallowed before answering, in a low flat tone, "The photographer." His gaze slowly rose to meet hers.

Molly forced back a smile. "That's been taken care of. I found a photographer weeks ago!"

He buffered for several seconds. "You did?"

She laughed softly, reaching up to fix his curls. His eyes closed as she worked her fingers through his hair, visibly relaxing. She was practically waiting for him to start purring.

"Who did you get?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

She bit down on her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment before saying, "Anderson."

"WHAT?" Sherlock's eyes snapped open gleaming fiercely, as his nostrils flared. "That idiot?"

"Oh, calm down! This is why I didn't tell you sooner because I knew you'd react like this."

Sherlock crossed his arms, positively fuming as he fixed upon her a determined glare.

Molly mirrored his body language. "He's not as stupid as you think he is."

Sherlock let out a snort.

She rolled her eyes. "All right, so he's no genius, but he is a very talented photographer. I hadn't even been aware that he enjoyed photography until Lestrade mentioned it. So, I looked over his portfolio and he seemed really enthusiastic about wanting to photograph our wedding."

Sherlock gave another snort. "Of course he would be. He's probably going to cover his tumblr with the pictures he takes!"

"No he won't. Mycroft had him sign a confidentiality agreement."

Sherlock's lips formed a straight line. "So my brother is in on it, is he?"

"Yes. Of course. Be nice to Anderson, Sherlock. I trust him; allow him to prove himself to you ... please?"

Sherlock may have mastered the puppy-dog look but whenever Molly fixed upon him her large doe-eyes, he found it impossible to resist her. Not to mention that she had a knack for compromises.

She smoothed her hand across his arm. "If you are nice to him, and allow him to do his job without any fussing, I'll allow you to shag me directly after the ceremony." She looked up at Sherlock between her eyelashes.

He swallowed before giving a quick, short nod. Molly smiled triumphantly and stood on her tip toes to press a kiss to his jaw line.

"I better not regret this," he grumbled beneath his breath.

"You won't." She smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket. "Now, you really do need to leave or Mary will have both our heads!"

Sherlock gave Molly a quick kiss before leaving the room. He left just in time for it was only seconds later that Mary and Meena came into the room, followed closely by Anthea and Marian.

Meena narrowed her eyes at Molly, taking note of the necklace straight away. "You let the git in, didn't you?" she asked.

Mary let out a snort, not in the least bit surprised, before handing Molly her bouquet. "Ready?" she asked her.

"Yes," Molly answered, unable to stop herself from smiling widely.

Meena gave her a tender squeeze. "It's time to become Mrs. Holmes!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know ... no wedding! Sorry :( This chapter really got away from me, and I ended up deciding to split it into two chapters because it was becoming so long but then I thought of more things to write into it so it ended up being long anyway! Ahh well.
> 
> I don't have chapter 37 fully ready yet, but I can promise you that there will NOT be as long of a wait as there was for this chapter. I might have it ready by Monday, at the latest some time this week.
> 
> Be sure to tell me what you think, reviews always put a smile on my face! :)


	37. It's Time to Become Mrs. Holmes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The wedding chapter is here! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
> 
> My lack of being English will probably massively stand out in this chapter …
> 
> I did do my research though, but I most likely missed some things soooo please don't judge? (this is fiction … !)
> 
> I want to give a shout-out to MaybeItsJustMyType aka Sweet-Sweet-Escape for helping me figure out a few things with this chapter! Thank you Sweet's :D
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

"It's time to become Mrs. Holmes!" Meena announced as she gave Molly's arm a tender squeeze.

As soon as those words were spoken everything suddenly became a blur. Molly hadn't even managed a moment to gather breath before she found herself downstairs and taking Siger's arm. He gave her hand a tender squeeze and her surroundings became sharp and clear. She breathed in deeply before slowly letting it out, her heart feeling as if it was trying its hardest to leap from her chest. They moved towards an open door that led to the garden. Her throat had gone dry.

"Sher-Sherlock's out there? Waiting for me? Are you certain? He hasn't-he hasn't taken a case? Run off?" she stammered out, annoyed with herself for how shaky her voice was.

Siger squeezed her hand once more. "He's there Molly. He's waiting for you. He would never desert you."

Molly was very faintly aware of Anderson (the man was nearly in tears) as he took pictures while they stood in the doorway, and it was only then that she took note of the fact that the sun was shining brightly, nary a cloud in the sky. She took in a deep breath and felt a wave of calm wash over her before she turned and pressed a kiss to Siger's cheek.

He smiled. "Ready?"

She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling at Mary, Anthea and Meena, before returning her gaze to Siger. "I'm ready."

They stepped out into the sunshine and Molly's breath hitched in her throat. The garden looked as if she had entered a fairytale. Everyone was sat beneath the trees, with fairy-lights twined between the leaves and from each branch hung a glass bauble with a single yellow Ranunculus inside. Each chair was bedecked with a simple grey ribbon and a yellow Ranunculus tucked into the center.

Sherlock was stood with his back to her, beneath an archway dotted with yellow and white Ranunculus. Mycroft stood before him, and Sherrinford and John stood beside him facing towards Molly. Both of them were smiling widely as they saw her approach.

The sounds of Erik Satie's  _Gymnopédie No. 1_  began to float across the air as Siger and Molly reached the beginning of the aisle; they paused for a moment then began to walk forward, followed by Mary, Anthea and Meena. The moment that Molly reached Sherlock's side the music began to fade off into silence. Sherlock turned and their eyes met. Siger released her and placed a warm kiss upon her cheek before joining Marian. Molly handed Mary her bouquet and turned fully to face Sherlock as he did the same.

Mycroft held his hands clasped together as he looked at his brother. "Are you William Sherlock Scott Holmes free, lawfully, to marry Molissia Beatrice Hooper?"

Sherlock smiled, not moving his eyes from her. "I am," he answered solemnly.

Mycroft switched his gaze to Molly. "Are you Molissia Beatrice Hooper free, lawfully, to marry William Sherlock Scott Holmes?"

"I am," she said softly, a faint blush crossing her cheeks, as she too kept her gaze locked on Sherlock.

Mycroft beckoned to them. "I ask you now to both join hands and make your vows."

Sherlock took Molly's hands in his, never breaking his gaze from her. "Molly, I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly. I have little left in myself, I must have you," he paused, bringing her hands up to his lips, glancing down.

Molly was struggling to hold back tears as he swallowed, steadying his breathing so that he would be able to continue. He lowered their clasped hands and looked back into her eyes before he continued.

"The world may laugh, may call me absurd, selfish, but it does not signify. My very soul demands you. It will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame. I knew you would do me good, in some way, at some time. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you. Their expression and smile did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing." He let out a shaky breath, laughing very faintly. "Upon realizing this I forced myself to bury any feeling and sentimental thought that I had for you ... because ... it frightened me. But I realize now that I was a complete fool for doing so. And I haven't regretted a single moment since I finally admitted to myself, and to you, how I felt."

Tears were now falling freely down her face; she could no longer keep them at bay. He released one of her hands and reached up to gently smooth them away with his thumb. She glanced quickly at Mycroft, a pleading tone in her voice as she asked, "Can I kiss him now?"

Mycroft gave the faintest of smiles. "Not yet." He took the rings that John held out to him.

Sherlock chuckled, taking the smaller of the two rings from Mycroft, and lifted Molly's left hand in his. Sherlock's eyes locked on hers once more.

"With this ring, I declare my self to you, and only you. I love you, Molly," he murmured softly before he slipped it on. He then brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her ring-bedecked finger. He lowered her hand, and straightened, giving her a few moments to compose herself. She breathed in deeply several times before taking both of his hands in hers.

"Sherlock ... the first time we met I thought you were a complete tosser, but a gorgeous and fit tosser. And it may be ridiculous to call it love at first sight, but I honestly believe that that's what it was. Everyone treated it like it was just some silly schoolgirl crush, but you knew, you knew that it was so much more. And I knew that that frightened you. So I offered you my help, in disguise of offering you my heart." She paused, to steady her breathing as her emotions began to well up inside of her.

Sherlock was blinking rapidly, and Molly felt the tiniest bit pleased that he was struggling to stay composed. With a final intake of breath she was able to continue.

"Over the years we have had our ups and downs, a few more downs than ups. We both made some foolish mistakes, but in the end, I always knew I loved no other as well as I have loved you."

She paused again and wiped away another stray tear before taking the ring that Mycroft held out to her. When her gaze returned to Sherlock, her eyes were clear and sparkling.

"Sherlock, I choose you. And I'll choose you, over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I'll keep choosing  _you_. I love you, Sherlock." She slipped on the ring, and did the same that he had done, placing a kiss upon his newly ring-bedecked finger.

Mycroft barely had a chance to announce that they were now husband and wife before Sherlock grabbed Molly about the waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss. She laughed against his lips, shocked by his rather public display of affection. When they parted Sherlock was smiling widely. She was certain that she had never seen him look so happy.

He held his arm about her waist and steered her down the aisle, everyone was smiling and Marian was dabbing at her eyes. Molly knew exactly his intentions and didn't put up a fight and she could have sworn that she caught Mary giving them a knowing glance. He ducked through the orchard, leading her along deeper into the garden. A few minutes passed as the noises died away and suddenly it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

Sherlock came to sudden standstill and spun about, before pulling her to him and kissing her deeply, hungrily.

"You planned all this, didn't you?" she asked him when they parted for breath, noting the box of tissues and the blanket that was draped over the bench.

He smirked. "Of course."

She hummed against his lips as he kissed her again.

"Did you like my vows?" he murmured as he began to leave a trail of kisses down the length of her neck.

"Mmmm, yes I did," she answered as she tilted her head to the side to give him more access.

"I thought it would be appropriate to quote from  _Jane Eyre_  since that's what I did when I proposed to you." He nibbled at her earlobe.

Molly cupped his face in his hands, bringing him forward so that she could look into his eyes. "I loved every word, it was perfect."

They kissed again, and as the kiss deepened Sherlock moved back towards the bench. When his legs bumped against it he eased himself down, settling Molly onto his lap. They parted for air, breathing heavily.

"I'm not wearing any knickers," she whispered against his lips.

A low growl escaped his throat as he grabbed handfuls of the fabric of her dress and lifted it up. She situated herself more comfortably upon him, her thighs coming to rest on either side of his hips as she reached between them to singlehandedly undo the button and zip of his trousers. As soon as she had her hand wrapped around his hard shaft he groaned.

"Molly, wait! Let me remove my trousers," he said to her, his fingertips brushing against the soft curve of her bum.

He placed his hand on the bench lifting himself up, she held onto him tightly with one hand and together they tugged and pulled his trousers until they were settled by his knees. She moaned softly as the movements caused his cock to rub against her.

The moment he dropped back down to the bench Molly returned her hand to around his shaft, stroking him gently. Their gaze locked as she placed the tip of him at her soaked, aching entrance. She pulled her hand away, settling it on his shoulder as she moved her other hand to cradle the side of his face.

"Husband," she whispered softly to him.

"Wife."

They kissed as she slowly eased his length inside of her.

"Oh!" she whimpered, as their bodies became perfectly joined; she was certain that he had never felt so good.

They moved together in unison, knowing exactly what the other needed. They shared kisses, and gasps and whimpers of "I love you" flittered through the air as they grew closer to reaching their fruition.

With every stroke of his cock deep inside of her, a shudder ran through Molly's body. Sherlock was mesmerized by the sight of her as she tilted back slightly; changing the angle that he entered her. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as sweet moans escaped from between them. He held tightly onto her bum, rolling his hips beneath her, before he began to mouth at her throat.

"Oh Sherlock! Sherlock!" she cried out softly, and with one final thrust, he felt her come undone around him.

His hips rose from the bench, desperate to be inside of her as deeply as he could go, before he gasped out her name. Her body gave one final shudder as his cock pulsed inside of her. She fell against him, sighing blissfully. He held her close, pressing kisses to her forehead, cheeks, nose then her lips. She kissed him back, holding onto to him tightly.

Minutes passed as they basked in the afterglow of their consummation. She placed a gentle trail of kisses along his jaw line as he leisurely moved his hands up and down her back. Once their breathing had slowed to a more normal pitch she started to move herself off of him, so that they could begin to clean themselves up, but they both froze when the sounds of laughter suddenly reached their ears.

A look of horror crossed over her features at the thought of being caught. The laughter grew closer then suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by the sounds of kissing, followed by a brief low murmur of voices then footsteps moving away.

Molly let out a breath of relief. "Was that ...?"

"Sherrinford and Meena," Sherlock deadpanned.

She snorted a giggle. "They didn't waste any time. I told you they'd like each other!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but quickly cradled her head in his hands and kissed her briefly.

"Shall we return?" she asked him.

He let out a low whine. "Must we? Can't we just skive off?"

She chuckled. "Nope. You don't want those dance lessons you gave me to go to waste do you?"

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "I suppose not."

They hurriedly cleaned themselves up, making certain that their clothes were re-situated so that they did not appear as if they had just thoroughly shagged each other; even though Molly was certain that everyone knew exactly what they had been doing. Sherlock gave her one final searing kiss before leading her back through the garden. As they neared the reception area Molly gave his hand a tug. He stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"I wanted to let you know that I asked Anderson not to take any posed photographs, only candid's. I thought you'd be more comfortable with that," she explained to him.

Sherlock kissed her. She smiled against his lips as they pulled apart.

"You know me so well, it's almost frightening," he said to her.

She laughed, before pressing another kiss to his lips as she laid her hands flat upon his chest. "I rather like you in grey, the colour suits you. And you did an excellent job in picking a yellow colour for your tie," she said to him.

He smiled down at her, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "Does this mean I need to compliment your dress?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"Well, I'm going to anyway!" He adopted a serious expression. "The colour suits you; it looks well against your complexion, and it fits your body in just the right way." He ran his hands up and down her sides. "It also shows off just the right amount of your breasts, without revealing too much and yet enabling me to do this." He dipped his head down and placed a kiss upon her sternum before raising his head and pressing his lips to hers. "You look different, and yet you're still you."

"I'm like an enhanced Molly!" she giggled out.

He rolled his eyes, making her laugh harder.

"Come wife!" he growled. "We have a reception to return to."

She continued to giggle as he slipped his arm around her waist and they began to make their way down the path. Instead of returning to where the ceremony had taken place, Sherlock made his way towards the field behind the house.

As they stepped out from the shadows of the trees into the bright sunlight, Molly saw that a tent of pale yellow silk had been set up. Fairy-lights, branches and Ranunculus flowers hung from beneath it, and small vases of Ranunculus flowers decorated the tables. A chorus of cheers and applause erupted as they approached.

Molly couldn't keep herself from blushing, certain that it was perfectly obvious what they had been doing. But when Sherlock gave her hip a gentle squeeze she suddenly realized that she didn't care in the slightest what anyone thought. He led her towards the table where his parents and brothers were sat. By the time that everyone had decided on what that they wanted from the menus that Sherlock had created, a comfortable hum of chatter had settled in. The food was spectacular, and everyone was in awe with the fact that Sherlock had gone through so much trouble. He dismissed their amazement with a wave of his hand, assuring them that it had been an easy task.

A short while later, after the plates had been cleared and their glasses of champagne had been refilled several times, Sherlock suddenly stood and turned to Molly. He held out his hand with a smile spreading across his lips.

"Come Mrs. Holmes, it is time for us to dance."

She smiled back at him, placed her hand in his and stood. He led her away from the table and towards the area that had been set up for the dancing. They faced each other.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, slipping his arm about her waist, and taking her other hand in his until they were both in the waltz pose. "We have been practicing, so you shouldn't make too much of a fool of yourself."

She gave his foot a slight kick with her own, fighting back a smile. "Very funny. You know that I can dance Sherlock."

The music hadn't started yet, but they were already swaying back and forth ever so slightly.

His smile widened. "If you like to call that odd gyration dancing, then I suppose that you can!"

She gave his shoulder a slight pinch as she placed her hand upon it. "Not even an hour into our newly married life and you are already insulting me!"

His smile turned into a smug smirk. "It's too late now; you can't get out of it you're tied to me for life!"

She chuckled softly. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

He pressed his lips to hers for a quick, tender kiss, before looking over her shoulder and giving a nod to Wiggins. Soft music flowed through the speakers, and straight away Molly recognized the song. Her eyes filled with tears as Sherlock tugged her closer to him and they began to slowly move with the rhythm of Claude Debussy's  _Clair De Lune_.

"This is you, isn't it? You recorded yourself playing this, didn't you?" she asked him as he gently kissed away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

He leaned his forehead against hers as they continued to move with the music, bringing their joined hands to his chest. "Yes. This was your most played song in your playlist. I thought that you would appreciate it."

Molly brushed her nose up against his. "I do appreciate it. I love it. But this isn't exactly a waltz, Mr. Holmes!"

He chuckled. "I know. But we're still dancing, are we not?" he asked her as they continued to gently move across the floor, with the rise and fall of the music.

She smiled. "Do you want to know why I've listened to this song so many times?"

He nodded, and she moved her hand from his shoulder up to the back of his neck, moving her fingers through the curls at his nape. She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her for several moments.

"Those two years when you were away, I would fall asleep every night listening to this song. And I would imagine you were playing it, to me, for me."

She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. For several moments he stared at her. Molly was certain she had never before seen quite so much love in his expression. As the music swelled he tilted his head and captured her lips with his own, kissing her deeply. He let go of her hand, placing both his arms about her so that her body became nestled snugly up against his own, the kiss growing in passion.

"Sherlock ...," she murmured, when they at last parted for breath. "Contain yourself, we're not alone!"

Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were sparkling. Sherlock chuckled; his own cheeks tinged a faint pink.

"Suddenly I don't care so much anymore. Let them watch!" he all but growled, his tone then softened when he said, "It is our wedding day!"

She managed to smile before he kissed her again.

They continued to dance for several hours, the time flying by with no one noticing. When  _Murder on the Dance Floor_ started to play, Molly couldn't help but laugh. He had kept true to his word. A few more songs later and the music began to taper off into softer, slower songs.

"I think it's time for us to cut the cake, Sherlock," Molly said to him, as they slowly moved in time with the music.

He made a noise of agreement. "That is just as long as Mycroft hasn't gotten to it first!"

Molly pinched his shoulder and he smiled cheekily. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep herself from smiling. "Have you seen the cake yet? I haven't." He shook his head.

"I didn't know your mother used to make wedding cakes."

Sherlock shrugged. "It was a hobby of hers, she used to do it all the time when I was growing up, but hasn't in years. I can't imagine what she's conjured up for us."

Molly's smile grew wider. "Well, let's find out then!"

"All right."

They stopped dancing just as the song came to an end. Sherlock nodded to Wiggins and he disappeared into the house, only to return moments later carrying a three-tiered yellow cake. Molly giggled and clapped her hands in delight when she saw that it was dotted with daisies and little bees.

"Childish …" Sherlock grumbled beneath his breath.

Molly turned to look at him with disdain, but when she saw how lit up his eyes were she knew that he hadn't really meant it. Wiggins placed it on the table and stepped back, allowing them to approach. Anderson was busily snapping photos as everyone formed a circle around them.

"Before you cut it though, the cake needs one more thing," John said as he stepped forward, taking a small figurine from his pocket.

Molly very nearly roared with laughter as he placed it on top of the cake. The figurine was a pair of skeletons, one in a bride's dress and the other in a black suit. The skeleton bride had her legs wrapped around the skeleton groom's waist. It was perfect, even Sherlock was chuckling as he looked it over.

"Shall we?" he asked her, as he took up the knife that had been laid out for them.

Molly covered his hand with her own, and together they cut into the cake. They laid the slice onto a plate and Sherlock divided it in half.

"Do we really have to feed it to each other?" Sherlock asked in a disgruntled tone.

Molly nodded. "Yes! It's tradition!"

He sighed but picked up a piece with his fork, and Molly did the same. They fed each other and everyone around them clapped. Sherlock tugged her forward and they shared a sweet kiss.

The dancing continued well into the evening. Sherlock even allowed Molly a dance with Greg, although he kept a close eye on them the entire time. As they were dancing Molly winked at Meena and Sherrinford, neither one of them had danced with anyone else.

In spite of the fact that Sherlock had been well aware of Mycroft having found himself a goldfish, he couldn't stop himself from staring in astonishment as he watched his usually stoic brother take Anthea to the dance floor. Molly quickly erased the shocked expression from his face when she returned to him. She snuggled into his side, smiling up at Sherlock.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"Not entirely. How much longer do we have to stay?" he grumbled.

She laughed softly. "Well, it is  _our_  wedding. I suppose we could leave whenever we like."

He opened his mouth to answer her but stopped as Sherrinford approached them, holding an envelope in his hands.

"I know that you requested not to be given gifts, but I couldn't bring myself to not give you both something." Sherrinford explained as he held the envelope out to them.

Molly took it and opened it, pulling out a sheet of paper. Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. He had gifted them a night at Foxhill Manor. Sherlock peered at the paper over her shoulder.

"No one should spend their wedding night traveling," Sherrinford explained. "Mycroft helped work out all the kinks. He has a car that will be taking you to the hotel tonight, and your luggage has been sent on ahead. The car will take you to the airport tomorrow."

Molly flung her arms around Sherrinford, giving him a hug. He laughed, returning the hug.

"Thank you," she said to him. Before she stepped back she whispered into his ear, "Have fun with Meena." Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, as she released him from her hold.

For a brief moment Sherlock looked rather miffed, but his expression quickly softened before he held out his hand to his brother and said, "Thank you."  
Sherrinford smiled and warmly shook his brother's hand. Molly struggled to hold back as more tears filled her eyes. Sherlock returned his arm to around her waist, nudging her close. Everyone took this as a signal that it was time to give the happy couple their final goodbyes and congratulations. Several tears were shed amongst the women, and laughter and advice too. Then Sherlock took Molly's hand, after enduring a hardy clap on the back from Lestrade, and led her towards the waiting car. The moment that they had slipped inside and the door was shut behind them, Sherlock let out a happy, relieved sigh.

"Alone at last," he murmured as he reached out for her, pulling her onto his lap.

Molly smiled at him, cupping his face in her hand, before giving him a gentle kiss. The kiss quickly deepened. "Sherlock!" she hissed out in a warning tone as his hand began to wander beneath her dress. "We're not shagging in the car on the way to the hotel!"

He pouted and she nipped at his bottom lip.

"There will be plenty of time for that when we're  _alone!'_ " she nodded her head in the direction of the driver, who was unseen due to the barrier.

Sherlock let out a humph but pulled his hand away from her dress and returned his mouth to hers. They continued to kiss until the car came to a stop, and they quickly disentangled before the door was open.

Molly gaped in awe as she stepped out of the car. The hotel that Sherrinford had gifted them a night at was a beautiful manor house. Sherlock pressed a kiss to her temple, slipping his arm around her waist before they walked inside.

Without a word needing to be said, they were lead upstairs by one of the staff and brought to a room that was bedecked in soft oranges, reds and gold's. There was a curtain that closed off the bed from the rest of the room, and their suitcases were stood beside a wooden dresser, where a bottle of champagne was sat cooling on ice. The attendant asked if they needed anything else, and when Sherlock told him no, he left hooking a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outdoor handle.

The moment the door shut, Sherlock took Molly into his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned against his lips, as he began to blindly walk her backwards. Her legs bumped against the mattress as Sherlock grabbed handfuls of the fabric of her dress. Ever so gently she pushed him away, smiling cheekily.

She shook her head as she said to him, "Ah, ah, ah Mr. Holmes ... you had your way with me once in this dress ... I don't trust you in helping me to get it off—in one piece—just give me a few minutes Sherlock ... the wait will be worth it." Molly pressed a tender kiss to his lips and gently lifted his hands away from her. She stepped away from him and moved over to her suitcase.

Sherlock began to pout as he slumped down upon the bed. As she straightened and faced him he couldn't see what she now had in her hand, for she kept it well hidden behind her.

"Just give me a couple of minutes. It will be worth it, I promise!" She gave him one final cheeky smile then disappeared into the loo.

Sherlock sighed, falling back against the bed, peering over the tip of his nose towards the door. A mere thirteen seconds passed before he jumped to his feet and quickly disrobed. His hard, aching cock bobbed between his legs as he moved about the room switching off the lamps until only one nearby the bed was on. He removed the decorative pillows, tossing them to the floor then folded back the blanket and sheet. As he was pulling the curtain closed he heard the sound of the tap being turned off. He lay down upon the bed, stretching out, anxiously awaiting her return, his eyes upon the door of the loo.

He gave his shaft a brief stroke, hoping to ebb off some of the ache. The door opened and she stepped out. For a brief moment he merely stared. Then he realized his mouth was hanging open and his throat had gone dry. He closed his mouth and swallowed.

She was wearing a black negligee, if the sparse bit of fabric could exactly be considered that. The design of it was rather simple; a dark outline of shapes that revealed bare skin beneath. It more so left her exposed than covered.

"Do you like it?" she asked, as she strode towards the bed. "I bought it because it reminded me of-"

"Honeycomb," he interjected.

"Yes."

He moved onto his knees, his cock giving a prominent twitch, and helped her onto the bed. Now that she was closer he took note of the fact that she wore nothing beneath the sparse negligee. Her pebbled, dusty pink nipples protruded through the openings and he also had a perfect view of her trimmed pubic hair that was faintly glistening with her arousal.

She repeated her question.

He cleared his throat. "Like it? Ahh yes, I like it. I intend to have a bit of fun with it as well. Lie down," he told her.

With an excited smile, Molly did just that, stretching her self out beneath him. Sherlock gazed at her, nearly overwhelmed by the thought that she was his and he was hers. He was in awe of her.

Molly slowly raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "Sherlock?" she asked softly.

He blinked, having not realized that he was buffering.

She giggled. "I guess you  _do_  like it."

"Mmmm, like is a bit of a weak word choice, I think  _love_ is a bit better," he murmured.

She continued to giggle then let out a breathy moan as he leaned forward and began to press kisses down the length of her throat. He suckled on her clavicle, nipping at it lightly before continuing downwards. Her body shook slightly as his warm breath danced across her skin. A quiet whine slipped out from her lips as he licked at the exposed skin between the openings of her negligee. When he at last reached her breasts she let out a guttural groan. He touched with his tongue only the bits of skin that were revealed to him, gently circling her nipple until it became a hard, rosy peak. He did the same to her other breast before nipping gently at her skin as he continued to move downwards.

It was almost infuriating to her to not have his mouth touch her all over, and yet she also liked it; every spot that he had made contact with was tingling. When she felt the warmth of his breath ghost over her trimmed curls, her hips bucked involuntarily. He chuckled and laid the palms of his hands upon her hips to hold her down.

Sherlock wasn't entirely certain if the negligee had been created for this purpose, but he couldn't help but silently thank the designer for situating an opening so perfectly that it was sat directly over Molly's taut little nub. He pressed his tongue flat against her clit before suckling it between his lips. A low wail escaped her as her back arched. He slid his hand beneath the negligee and pressed two fingers into her wet warmth, continuing to suckle at her clit, as he began to move his fingers inside of her. When she dug her hands into his hair, giving his curls a slight tug, he stilled his movements.

"Sherlock!" she whimpered. "Wait, please."

He gave her clit a final flick with the tip of his tongue before raising his head so that their eyes could meet.

"Please … I don't want to come until you are inside of me," her words came out in a breathless whisper that sent an ache straight to his cock.

He slipped out his fingers, sucking them clean of her juices, before he slid up her body until they were face to face. She brought her hands forward so that she could cradle his face before giving him a gentle tug downwards so that their lips could meet.

As they kissed, his hands took a hold of her negligee and began to pull it upwards. When they parted for breath he helped her to sit up so that he could remove it. She gave him an impish smile the moment she became fully naked, he barely had a chance to react before she pushed him down onto his back and straddled his stomach.

"Your turn!" she announced before dropping her head down to mouth at his jaw line. She nipped and suckled her way down the length of his neck, nibbling gently at each of his collarbones before licking a stripe up his throat. She shifted her body so that she could continue her ministrations with her mouth, her slick folds just barely brushing against his cock.

Sherlock moaned then let out a soft yelp as she bit down non-too gently on his left nipple. She chuckled before taking it between her lips, bathing his now tender skin with her tongue before moving to his right side. She kissed and licked her way down his stomach, letting out a low hum when she at last reached his cock.

Before she took him between her lips she gave his shaft a few slow pumps with her hand. Sherlock swore loudly, clutching tightly onto the bed-sheets. She placed her lips upon him, before sucking the tip into her mouth, humming once more, knowing that the vibrations would travel straight down the length of him to his bollocks.

He swore again before hissing out her name. She released him, gently laying her chin onto his thigh. He laid there for a few moments catching his breath. He then opened his eyes and looked down at her.

"Come here," he said to her.

She moved upwards and he took her in his arms, rolling her onto her side. They became still for a time, both of them content to gaze upon one another. Sherlock was the first to move, bringing his hand up to smooth his fingertips across her cheek.

"I love you," he murmured softly to her. "I am aware that I don't say that very often … but please, don't ever think that I don't."

Molly smiled, gently cupping the side of his face in her hand, her thumb brushing across his lips. "I know Sherlock … I love you too."

He slid his hand down to the small of her back, pressing her close against him. A soft moan escaped from between her lips before he kissed her. She moved her leg, slipping her thigh over his hip, allowing his cock to nestle against her aching core.

"Please Sherlock," she moaned against his lips, "Please make love to me!"

He quickly rolled her onto her back as she spread her legs in invitation. He stared down at her for a moment, taking in the glorious sight of her glistening sex, knowing that she was his and his alone.

"Sherlock!" she whimpered, her rips rising ever so slightly from the bed.

He blinked rapidly, taking his length in his hand and settling the tip directly at her entrance.

"Mmmmm!" she moaned.

He watched as his cock slowly disappeared inside of her tight pinkness. The moment that he was fully-seated, with his bollocks pressed against the curves of her arse, he stretched his body above her and kissed her deeply. They moaned into each other's mouths as he began to move. She lifted her legs, crossing them over the back of his thighs.

He continued to enter her in swift, smooth strokes. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, as he placed one hand on the bed to keep himself steady and with the other he massaged her breast. She had her hands buried in his hair, her fingernails scraping against his scalp. He groaned, increasing ever so slightly the pace of his thrusts, moving his hand down to her hip to hold on to her.

"Yes, Sherlock, yes!" she cried out. "Oh, harder!"

He hissed out a breath, before reaching back to grab onto her legs so that he could bring them forward, pressing her knees down into the mattress.

"That's it!" she whimpered, as she clutched tightly onto his shoulders.

The room filled with their breathy moans as he settled in to giving her the fucking she asked for, reveling in the sensation of her taking his full length with every stroke.

"Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" she gasped out.

He moved one of his hands from her leg, placing it against the spot directly above her mons pubis, pressing down before he gave her clit one, two, three swipes with his thumb.

"Sherlock!" she screamed out, ending in a low moan as he felt her walls clench around him.

He leaned further forward, the back of her calves pressing against his shoulders as he sped up his thrusts before he entered her one final time, gasping out her name, a glorious shudder running through his body. He grew still as he nuzzled at her throat with his lips then he smiled. "Mmmm," he hummed out, "Molly Holmes!"

She sighed blissfully tilting her chin so that their eyes could meet. They shared a smile before he leaned back and carefully lowered her legs. He moved onto his side, pulling her with him and tucking her body close against his. She hummed against his lips as they shared a slow, gentle kiss. He moved his hand through her hair, gazing at her.

Silence fell, no words were needed. That was perhaps one of the things that Sherlock loved so much about her. More often than not neither one of them needed to speak a word to understand the other.

Molly kissed him, then laid her head against his chest and slowly let out another happy sigh. Sherlock reached up to switch off the lamp, bathing the room in the soft glow of moonlight, before pulling the sheet up over them. He slowly moved his hand up and down her back, not quite certain if he would ever be able to fully fathom the thought that he was now a married man. A  _truly_  married man, not just married to his work, but married to a beautiful, incredible woman.

As these thoughts rushed through his brain he suddenly remembered something. He gave her body a gentle nudge and she shifted against him. He gave her another nudge and she loosened her hold on him. He slid his body downwards so that that they were more at level with each other.

"Sherlock!" Molly giggled sleepily. "What are you doing?"

He now had his mouth against her neck, bathing her skin in kisses. But that wasn't what she was questioning about; he was holding her hand in his and the tips of his fingers were grasping her engagement ring and wedding band. With a final, gentle tug he managed to slip them off, the two rings making a soft clink.

"Sherlock?" She blinked a few times as he pulled away from her. She stared at him confused as he sat up, still holding her rings, the diamonds glinting in the faint light from the window. "What is it?" she asked him, her voice now tinged with concern.

He wasn't looking at her, but instead down at the two rings he was holding between his fingertips. "I want to show you something," he spoke quietly.

She sat up and he slipped his free hand around her back, pulling her close until she was tucked up against him. She leaned into his warmth, joining him in gazing down at the two rings. Her hand felt bare, empty without them on. He turned and placed a kiss on her forehead before removing his arm from around her back and taking her hand in his once more. He slipped her engagement ring back on, bringing her hand up to press his lips to her finger. He then gently put her hand back down and held her wedding ring out to her.

"Look inside," he instructed her. "I had it engraved."

She took the ring from him, the three smalls diamonds on the band sparkling as she tilted it towards the light. When she read the words, her breath hitched and her eyes began to fill with tears. "You do count," she managed to warble out.

He took her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap, cradling her face in his hands before he began to kiss away the few tears that had fallen. Her eyes met his and he leaned his forehead against hers. "You do count, Molly, always."

His words were met by another fresh batch of tears and he kissed those away as well. When he finished she grabbed hold of him and kissed him soundly on the lips, clutching tightly to her ring. He nudged her down onto her back, covering her body with his own. When she felt him tugging on her engagement ring again, she broke apart the kiss and positioned her hand so that he had better access. He slipped it off and she held out her wedding ring to him. He took it, placed a loud kiss upon her naked finger and slipped the two rings back on. As soon as he was finished she slipped her hands around the back of his head and pulled him down closer to her. He bumped his nose against hers and she smiled.

"What do you need, Sherlock?" she asked softly, continuing to smile. "What do you need?"

His expression mirrored hers. He brought his hand up to smooth back her hair from her face, brushing across her cheek with his fingertips. He spoke without hesitation, "You. I will always need  _you_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -flops over and squees- ... heh ... sorry, that last line though, it just hits me right in the feels! hehe ... anyway, TA DA!
> 
> So did you like it? Did you like it?! Please leave a review and let me know! Reviews are like a delicious slice of wedding cake to me :)
> 
> Oh and that bit where Molly asks "Can I kiss him now?" ... My Aunt said that during her wedding vows and I just knew that I had to use it :D
> 
> Also: Sherlock's vows ... these are the quotes from Jane Eyre: "I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly. I have little left in myself, I must have you"
> 
> -and-
> 
> "The world may laugh, may call me absurd, selfish, but it does not signify. My very soul demands you. It will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame. I knew you would do me good, in some way, at some time. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you. Their expression and smile did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing."
> 
> Also: Molly's vows ... "I choose you. And I'll choose you, over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I'll keep choosing you." - I did not come up with that. I don't know who wrote it (I tried to find out) but I saw it on a post on instagram and I thought that those words would make beautiful vows.
> 
> Once again, please let me know what you think! :D


	38. I Will Always Need You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last the Sex Holiday chapter is here! WOOOHOO!
> 
> I struggled with this for a bit, which is madness since this is so smut heavy, but my head just wasn't in the right place I guess. But now I finally am mentally with it … pfft … and I managed to pound this one out –snorts- quite quickly!
> 
> There's a little surprise waiting for you down at the bottom … heh …
> 
> ENJOY! :D

* * *

"I will always need _you_ ," Sherlock told her, his fingertips gently stroking her cheek.

Molly smiled widely. "I will always need you as well."

They kissed, slow and languid and she could feel him beginning to grow hard against her leg when a sudden noise caused them to pull apart.

"What was that?" she asked.

He looked over his shoulder, into the dark room. "It sounded like ice shifting."

"Oh! It must be the bottle of champagne! We forgot about it!"

Sherlock sat up, as Molly did the same.

"We should at least have a glass, since your brother paid for it!" She got up from the bed as she said this, nudging the curtain open and stepping into the other room.

Sherlock watched her from the bed, drinking in the sight of her nakedness as she pulled the bottle from the cold water (nearly all the ice had melted), and toweled it dry. She carried it back to the bed, with two glasses in her hand.

"Would you do the honour? Opening these bottles always makes me nervous," she explained as she held it out to him.

He smiled and took it from her, quickly and gently easing out the cork. The bottle opened with a soft pop, and he poured the bubbly drink into the two glasses that she held out. He settled the bottle onto the floor and took a glass from her as she climbed back onto the bed. He leaned against the pillows, his head coming to rest on the headboard. Molly smiled as she straddled his hips, then let out a giggle as she accidentally spilled some of the champagne onto his chest.

"Oops!" She giggled some more. "Hmmm ... I think I might know how to fix this little predicament." She carefully held her glass at level as she dropped her head down and licked the spilled champagne off of him. "Mmmm ... that's a rather delicious combination!"

They quickly settled into carefully pouring champagne onto each other's bodies and licking it off. The sensation of the bubbles on her nipples, combined with his mouth and tongue suckling it from her skin, very nearly sent her into orgasm. By the time the bottle was finished they were both aching for each other.

Sherlock was again lying beneath her and she quickly straddled his waist, wrapping her hand around his hardened length before placing him at her entrance. She sank down onto him, both of them moaning happily. Once she was comfortably seated, she leaned forward placing her hands on either side of his head. Her breasts were touching his chest, and as she began to rotate her hips, slowly fucking his cock, she kissed him. He held tightly onto her bum, pulling up his legs in order to be able to plant his feet firmly onto the bed, so that he could thrust up into her.

"Oh!" she gasped out, as their bodies moved together in perfect synchrony.

Their fun with the champagne had had them teetering near the edge, thus it didn't take long for either one of them to reach their fruition. Molly's body shook as she moaned and mewled. He held himself up inside of her, pressing kisses to her face, her name coming out in a groan as her walls clenched around him. He slipped his hands over her back, cradling her close as he rolled them onto their sides. Blindly he reached out behind him for the sheet that had been pushed away. Once they were covered she let out a loud, happy sigh.

"Mmmm," he hummed into her neck. "Someone sounds as if they have been truly debauched."

She chuckled, snuggling against him. "I have been, most definitely!"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her heated skin. "Good. Expect many repeats of this; it's not called a Sex Holiday for no reason."

She laughed soundly, giving his nipple a faint tweak. "Will you tell me now where we are going?"

He leaned back slightly so that he could look up at her. "Italy," he replied. "Lake Como to be exact."

Her mouth dropped open, and he smiled at her shock.

"Do you approve?" he asked. "We'll be staying in a villa, overlooking the lake.

Instead of giving a verbal answer, she kissed him. He slipped his arm around her, holding her close.

"Hmmmm, I think you do approve!" he murmured.

She gave his bottom lip a tiny nibble. "I approve most-heartedly. Of course you would know how much I've wanted to go to Italy!"

He chuckled. "Your Pinterest boards were most helpful in that aspect."

She mock-rolled her eyes. "Will you stop stealing my tablet?"

"No _p_ e."

She pretended to grumble beneath her breath, which he quickly silenced with another kiss. They made love once more, dropping off to sleep just as the sun was beginning to rise.

* * *

 "I can't believe you almost got us kicked off the plane! No wait, I take that back, I _can_ believe it! Your libido is like a teenage boy's!"

Sherlock allowed Molly to berate him as they made their way through the airport towards the rental car service, a cheeky (and proud) smirk about his lips.

"Admit it, Molly," he drawled out, "you enjoyed yourself. Have you ever had sex on a plane before? I think not."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "No. I haven't. Until now!" She gave his arm a solid thwack with the back of her hand. "The scathing look that stewardess gave me! I was so embarrassed Sherlock!"

His smirk grew wider. "No you weren't."

She spluttered, and the deepening blush gave him all the information he needed. "You honestly couldn't wait until we were at our villa, _alone_ , to jump me?!"

"No. And I didn't jump you, I more so pushed you back into the lavatory. And did you _honestly_ expect me not to when you're wearing a dress? "

She rolled her eyes, growing silent as he was handed a set of car keys. Sherlock thanked the man in fluent Italian then took Molly's hand in his and led her outside into the sunshine.

"You rented a _Fiat_?" she exclaimed in surprise as they walked towards the little red car.

"Yes. I thought it would be appropriate and that you would like it."

"Oh I do! I love these little cars!"

Sherlock put their suitcases into the boot and they got into the car. Molly couldn't help but giggle as she watched him practically fold himself into the small space. He glared at her, making her laugh all the harder.

"I hope you aren't planning on shagging me along the way!"

He rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha. No, I'm not. There isn't enough room. Otherwise, you know that I would."

Her giggles slowly faded off as he started up the car. Silence fell as they began to make their way towards Lake Como. Molly stared out the window in awe of the beauty that she was seeing. Every now and then Sherlock would glance over at her, smiling to himself, her happiness overflowing into him. He reached out and placed his hand on her knee, smoothing his thumb over her skin. She placed her hand on top of his and he looked over at her, she was smiling at him.

"How long of a drive is it?" she asked.

"Nearly an hour and a half," he replied.

She pouted, and he laughed.

"Now who is the impatient one?"

She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest and returning her gaze out the window. "Have you ever been to Italy before? You seem to know the language rather well."

"I have once, but only in Rome. The local police were baffled by a string of murders, one of them involving an English politician. Mycroft sent me to solve it."

"Which of course you did."

He smiled. "Of course!"

For the duration of the drive Sherlock told her all about the case, describing what the victim's bodies looked like, how they were killed and how he figured out who the murderer was. He then grew silent as they approached where they would be staying, wanting to drink in her reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. Molly may have been dumbstruck before, but now she was so shocked that she momentarily forgot to breathe.

"Molly? Take in a breath or you're going to pass out!" Sherlock exclaimed as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

She inhaled loudly, her eyes filling with tears as she turned to look at him. "This is where we are staying?" she asked him, and he nodded. "It's ..." Words failed her.

He picked up her hand and kissed it. "This is what you deserve Molly."

She shook her head, still unable to speak. They got out of the car and he removed their suitcases. Molly stood, staring up at the cream coloured villa.

He walked up beside her, slipping his arm around her waist before murmuring into her ear, "Wait until you see the view."

A shiver ran through her body as he nuzzled at her neck.

"I think ... mmmm ... I think the only view I want to see right now is you naked," she said to him.

He chuckled, giving her skin a quick nip with his teeth. "That can be arranged." He smiled at her as he took her hand and led her inside.

"Oh my God, Sherlock! This is amazing," she said to him as she looked about. They had walked into a large drawing room; it was open and airy, filled with bright sunlight. "All of this ... just for the two of us? This place is massive!"

He smiled, pulling her into his arms. "There are six bedrooms, and I intend on making love to you in each of them! And most likely on a few of these sofas's as well, possibly in the pool, oh and on the terrace!"

She shook her head, laughing softly as she draped her arms over his shoulders. "Well ... in that case, I think we should get started right away!"

"Are you sure, you don't want to look about the place?" he asked, in a perfectly serious tone.

She slid her hand down his chest, not stopping until she reached the prominent bulge that was straining against the front of his trousers. "Positive."

He grabbed her hand and led her towards the stairs, after reaching the next floor they made their way down a hall; he appeared to know exactly where he was going, which he obviously did. Molly was certain he had mapped out the villa prior to coming there. They entered a pale coffee coloured bedroom, a large bed beckoning to them.

Sherlock turned, pulling her close up against him and kissed her deeply. She moaned into his mouth, pressing herself tightly to him, feeling the heat of his erection. There were several frantic moments as they rushed to remove each others clothing. As soon as they both were naked they fell upon the bed. Mouths and hands wandered.

"I love you Molly...," Sherlock murmured between the kisses he was placing across her skin. "I love you so much."

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him up to her so that they were more evenly situated. He settled himself comfortably between her legs, both of them moaning as his cock become nestled against her soaked folds.

"I love you too Sherlock, OH!" She gasped as he slid into her without warning.

He held himself still, cradling the side of her head in his hand. They stared into each others eyes for several moments, both of them still slightly overwhelmed by the fact that they were husband and wife. Molly smiled at him and he quickly returned the smile. He kissed her, and that was when he began to thrust.

They made love slowly, as he filled her with his length in long, languorous movements. He mouthed at her neck and throat, suckling and biting her breasts. She moaned and mewled beneath him clawing at his back, clutching at his arse. When her orgasm struck, he rode her through it, reveling in the sensation of her walls clenching so tightly around him. He wasn't far behind.

Afterwards he cuddled her close, his body aching with a delightful weariness. Both of them fell asleep within minutes, the exhaustion of the past two days finally getting to them.

It was mid-morning before they woke, the sun shining brightly. Sherlock struggled to get up, stumbling towards the curtains and pushed them apart so that the light shined through, before he swung the doors open. Molly giggled as she watched him walk unsteadily back to the bed. He fell on top of her, making her laughter ring out. She began to flounder beneath him, as he danced his fingertips up and down her side.

"Sherlock stop! Eeeeee!" She squealed as he continued to tickle her.

She clawed at his back and decided to distract him with a kiss. It worked. His fingers stopped as the kiss deepened. By the time they left the bed it was nearing afternoon.

"I'm half-starved and desperate for tea!" Molly said as she pulled on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns.

He hooked his arm around her waist, and they made their way downstairs towards the kitchen. "I requested for it to be fully stocked," he told her. "We don't have to go out for meals, unless you want to."

She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Staying in sounds like a good idea. It might be nice to venture out once in awhile though." She gave the ties of his tartan dressing gown a teasing pull before grabbing up the nearby kettle.

Once the tea was made, and Molly had cooked them some scrabbled eggs while Sherlock _carefully_ made the toast, they walked out to the glass-walled verandah. She gasped loudly, the view nearly taking her breath away. Sherlock took the plates from her and put them down on the table before slipping his arms around her and holding her close.

"I knew you'd like it here," he murmured into her skin as he nibbled at her neck.

"I don't like it Sherlock, I love it. And I love you."

They kissed before settling down at the table. She poured him his tea and when he took the cup his ring made a gentle clink against it. A soft giggle escaped her and he looked at her enquiringly.

"The sound your ring made, it just made me happy, that's all," she explained.

He put down his tea and cupped her face in his hand, pulling her close for a kiss. She snuggled up against him as they ate their breakfast. When they were finished he led her out into the garden, their hands intertwining.

"This place is beautiful! I've never seen anything so magnificent!" Molly said to him as they wandered about.

"Hmmm … I know I have."

She turned to face him and saw that he was looking directly at her. Her cheeks grew red, and he tugged her closer. They made their way back inside, exploring the rest of the villa.

When they returned to their bedroom Sherlock untied her dressing gown, slipping it off of her. Molly did the same to him, then quickly moved out of his embrace and stepped out onto the terrace. He smirked as he quickly followed her. She had her back to him and he stood behind her, wrapping his arms about her middle.

"Do you want me to take you like this?" he whispered into her ear, in that low tone that he knew made her weak in the knees. "Where anyone may possibly see us?" He uncrossed his arms, moving his hands so that he could cup her breasts.

"Yes…" she hissed out, faintly moaning as she felt the tip of his shaft nudge up against her.

She leaned back into him, reaching up with one arm to drape it across the back of his neck. Turning her head, their lips met as he released one of her breasts and dropped his hand down so that he could position himself at her entrance. He entered her slick heat, both of them moaning. Draping one arm across her torso, and holding her close with his hand on her breast, he had the other hand cupping her mons, stroking her clit as he kept his thrusts slow and steady.

When he felt her climax approaching, he kept her there teetering on the edge, stilling his thrusts to an almost sluggish pace as he ghosted his fingertips across her clit. Her nails dug into the back of his neck as she tried to press her bum back into him, desperate for the friction of his previous pace. He chuckled into her shoulder as she moaned in frustration.

He then quickened his thrusts, and she cried out in delight. Just as he swirled his fingertip over clit she fell over the edge into the abyss of orgasm. He held onto her tightly, continuing to thrust as she moaned out his name. The sound did it for him, and with only two more thrusts he held himself still inside of her, biting down onto her shoulder to prevent himself from making too much noise as his body thrummed with pleasure.

Once a few minutes had passed they staggered back into their bedroom, drunk on the cocktail of chemicals that was surging through their bodies. He dropped down onto the bed, pulling her with him. She kissed him lazily as they struggled for breath, before they both fell asleep.

* * *

 

For nearly three weeks they barely surfaced from the bedroom, only leaving to eat or shower. At the moment though, Molly was laying upon one of the lounge chairs beside the pool, soaking up the sun's rays. Sherlock was sat inside the verandah, at the table with his laptop. She had urged him to do so, not wanting him to become restless if he didn't have some sort of connection with the outside world. He had assured her that he wouldn't, that she was most certainly enough to keep him from getting bored. When she gave him a small smile, and continued to urge him, he realized that her body needed a bit of a break.

Every now and then he would look up from his lap top and stare at her in wonder. In wonder that he was married, to her, and that they were in Italy on their _honeymoon_. He shut his lap top with a snap and stood, just as he was about to make his way out to her, he heard a knock on the front door. Upon answering it he found no one there, just a hamper basket. He picked it up and carried it inside, looking over the note that was attached to it.

"Molly!" he called out to her, as he walked back outside. "We have a gift!"

She sat up, squinting at him in the sun. "Oh?" She stood and walked to the verandah.

Sherlock had put the hamper down on the table and held the note card out to her. She took it and read it.

"Aww, that was sweet of Mycroft and Anthea!"

Sherlock snorted. "More like just Anthea … do you honestly think my brother would have the intelligence to send us a hamper from Ushvani?"  
Molly gave Sherlock's bum a tweak before she put down the note and opened the hamper. "Ohhhhh! All of this looks lovely. Oooo, coconut and hibiscus massage oil!"

His eyes lit up. "Hmmm, would you like a massage Molly?" He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Who am I to say no? But where, we don't have a massage table."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Anywhere will do." He took her hand and led her into the villa. "How about here?"

Once she had agreed he went to grab a few of the pool towels.

"Are you sure about this Sherlock? The sofa is a bit low," Molly said to him.

He let out a huff and rolled his eyes. "It will be fine, just lie down, there's enough room for me to kneel."

She did so, taking off her swim suit before stretching herself out upon her stomach on the towel that he had previously put down. Sherlock held in a groan, his cock beginning to harden at the sight of her pale, naked flesh. He took the bottle of oil and kneeled on the sofa, his body hovering over hers. He squeezed some of the oil into his hands and warmed it before placing his palms on her back, and slowly began to work it into her skin.

The quiet moans and soft exhalations that she made as he worked through each knot that he encountered sent a ripple of pleasure straight to his cock. As he moved his hands to the middle of her back he slid his knees a bit further down. When her bum came into perfect view he struggled once more to hold in a groan. He steadied himself as he came upon an idea.

"You really do have the most glorious bottom," Sherlock said to her as he began to gently massage her soft, smooth flesh, working in the oil. "But nothing quite compares to this."

She cried out when she felt him give a sudden swift lick from her clit to her cunt. He continued to knead her bum as he slipped between her folds and delved into her centre.

"You're soaked already, Molly. Does getting a massage turn you on?" he asked before he continued to slowly fuck her core with his wicked tongue.

She whimpered before saying, "It's your touch Sherlock. Your touch is always enough."

He pulled away from her and sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was now straining painfully against his loose trousers. "Would you like me to fuck you, just like this?"

"Oh yes please! I need you inside of me!" she cried.

"You'll be all right, you'll be comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes! Please Sherlock; I need you to fuck me! I'm aching for your cock!"

He at last allowed himself to let out a groan and quickly stood so that he could remove his trousers. He wanted to give his length a few pumps, but his hands were still faintly covered in the oil. Instead he settled himself, with his knees on either side of her outer thighs, his cock, hard, hot and heavy, falling against her glistening sex as he took her bum in his hands once more. "Raise yourself up a bit," he instructed.

She did as he asked, both of them letting out a moan as he rubbed up against her.

"Oh you're going to feels so good like this!" he said to her in a hoarse whisper.

"Please Sherlock! Please!"

He moved his hips so that the head of his cock settled directly where they both wanted it to be. He pressed forward, slipping inside of her silken heat. "Molly!" he gasped, before swearing beneath his breath as he pulled out, only to slide back in. It took him several more times before he was able to enter her fully, she was just so _tight_.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock!" she mewled as she clutched tightly at the sofa cushions.

He took his time, keeping his movements slow, and making certain that with every thrust his bollocks pressed against her clit. It soon became clear though that she wanted more, and he wasn't about to deny her anything. He slid his hands from her bum to her hips and held onto her firmly before quickening the pace of his thrusts.

The room filled with their cries and moans of pleasure, his bollocks making a delightful smacking sound each time it made contact with her swollen nub.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Sherlock! OHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A loud moan erupted from her throat as he felt her walls clench and convulse around his cock.

He swore loudly and began to thrust as hard as he could, desperate for his own release.

"Yes. Yes. Yes!" she whimpered, her body now satiated and limp below his as he continued to fuck her. "Oh God Sherlock! I'm going to come again!" she cried out, the continued stimulation against her clit was almost too much for her to bear. She screamed out his name, this orgasm more intense than the first.

He gave one last surge of his hips, pressing his body tightly against hers, as stars exploded in front of his eyes. His cock pulsed and twitched deep within the depths of her. He moaned her name, whispering as he leaned forward, pressing kisses into her skin, "I love you Molly, I love you."

"Mmmmm, love you too."

Once he had regained some of his composure he slipped out of her body and lay down beside her. She moved onto her side, facing him, reaching up to gently brush her fingertips across the outlines of his face. He took up her hand and brought it to his lips. They shared a smile, before he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. Minutes passed, the sun beginning to set as they reveled in their after glow, sharing kisses and murmured endearments.

"Is there anything you can't do, Sherlock?" Molly asked him some time later. "That was by far one of the most wonderful back massages I've ever had. And I'm not saying that just because it ended in sex … I've _never_ had a massage that led to that before!"

He smirked cheekily. "I had to disguise myself as a masseuse once for a case …"

Molly rolled her eyes, not in the least bit surprised. "Of course."

They shared a few more kisses.

"I think a bath is in order!" Sherlock announced suddenly.

"Oh?" she enquired.

"Yes." He stood and held his hand out to her. He helped her to her feet then led her upstairs. Upon entering the loo he filled the bath with hot water and bubbles, a calming lavender scent filling the air.

They sank down together into the warmth, curling up against each other. Time passed in kisses and wandering hands, the bubbles faded and the water grew cooler, but neither one of them paid the least bit of attention. It wasn't until Sherlock started to feel a bit cramped that they got out and dried each other off.

It was late in the evening now and both of them were feeling hungry. After they each put on a dressing gown they returned downstairs to the kitchen. Molly sat at the table as Sherlock puttered about. She had offered him her help, but he had refused it, wanting her to relax.

"Did you YouTube how to cook different Italian meals before we came here?" she asked him in a teasing tone as she realized he was making Fettuccine Alfredo.

He shot her a derisive glare over his shoulder, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. She giggled softly then got up to get a bottle of wine. Once he was finished they moved into the dining room, situating themselves at the table so that they could both look out at the pool, the faint glow of lights from the town below, twinkling.

They ate their meal in cozy silence. Moving to the nearby sofa once the dinner things had been placed in the sink to soak. Molly was now stretched out upon the cushions, her legs in Sherlock's lap. He was reading to her from a medical journal that she had brought with them.

When her eyes began to droop, he stopped and lifted her up in his arms and carried her up to their bedroom. A few lazy kisses were shared, before they drifted off to sleep, as they basked in each other's warmth.

A few hours later Molly woke with a start. A loud clap of thunder rumbled overhead, followed by another great flash of lightning that filled the bedroom with its blaze, revealing to her that Sherlock was stood before the open doors that led to the balcony, the curtains blowing in the breeze. His naked body became a silhouette as another bolt crackled across the sky. She could see the muscles rippling across his back as he breathed.

"Sherlock?" she called out softly. The bed felt empty and cold without him in it.

He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder. The house shook as more thunder rumbled.

"Come back to bed," she pleaded. She wasn't scared per se, but thunderstorms always managed to put her a bit on edge.

All it took was a few strides for him to cross the room. He climbed onto the bed and slid beneath the sheet. They lay side by side for several moments, before Sherlock reached out and ran his hand over her. When he reached her breast he cupped it and tugged her forward with his other arm; the faint scent of lavender and coconut coming from her skin.

She laughed as he smiled at her. Once their bodies were pressed together, her cheek resting on his chest, she began to softly recite to him a poem that her father used to say to her whenever there was a storm, " _Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light."_

There was another bright flash, followed by a roll of thunder that sounded as if the building was going to be shaken from its foundation. Sherlock ran his hand up and down her back, noting how she suddenly clung to him a bit tighter. The curtains danced as the wind began to pick up, and the room filled with the scent of rain.

"I'm here Molly, you're safe," he whispered gently to her.

She nodded her head, pressing a kiss to his skin. As the rain began to come down harder Sherlock suddenly leapt up from the bed and quickly closed the doors. She laughed soundly as he hurried back to the bed, he pounced upon her and she let out a shriek of wild delight.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Molly yawned and stretched as she rolled over, but she pouted when she realized she was alone in the bed. After pulling on a nearby dressing gown she padded down the stairs and found Sherlock in the kitchen.

"Ooo, are you taking me on a picnic?" she asked as she watched him fill up the now empty hamper from Ushvani.

He smiled at her. "Yes I am. There's a perfect spot not too far of a drive from here that gives an even more fantastic view of the lake. I thought we could go there after breakfast."

"Sounds delightful!"

Once they had breakfasted and showered, which took a bit longer than it should have, they got into the _Fiat_ and Sherlock drove towards the nearby mountain range. He told her about the history of the area as they drove up the mountain, seeing only a few houses here and there. As always she was a bit in awe of his intellect and ability to store so much information.

When they arrived at their destination, in the midst of a large forest, they got out and he picked up the hamper before taking her hand in his. He led her toward a clearing amongst the trees. Molly stopped, staring with her mouth open. Sherlock had told the truth, the view of the lake from there was spectacular, the sight nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

White puffy clouds sailed over their heads as she unfolded the blanket. He set down the basket and pulled her down next to him. He silenced her giggles with kisses. As their kiss became heated Molly's stomach growled loudly, forcing them apart. With a rather overdramatic sigh Sherlock opened the hamper and began to take out the food he had packed. She popped a grape into her mouth as he uncorked the bottle of wine.

They basked in the quiet that surrounded them as they ate and drank. Once they had had their fill and the leftovers were packed away, Sherlock leaned back onto his hands and closed his eyes.

"Smile Sherlock!" Molly called out suddenly.

His eyes popped open and he began to grumble when he saw that she was trying to take a picture of them both.

"Oh stop your pouting. I don't want to go our whole honeymoon without taking at least a few pictures of us!" she said to him as she continued to try to angle her arm so that she could capture both them and the view behind them.

With a sigh he reached up and took her mobile from her, angling the camera perfectly. He even managed to smile as he snapped the photo. She turned her head and placed a kiss on his cheek, not noticing that he quickly snapped another photo.

"Thank you," she said to him.

He smiled at her and they kissed, just as he managed to take yet another one. She giggled against his lips as he dropped the phone and pulled her close up against him, deepening the kiss.

"Mmm … someone is still hungry and I don't think it's for dessert!" Molly said cheekily.

"You're my dessert!" he growled out, pushing her down onto the blanket. He silenced her with another kiss just as she had opened her mouth to speak, but when he began to push her dress up her thighs she gently shoved him away.

"Sherlock I don't think we should do that here!"

He rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

"What if someone sees us? We might actually be on someone's property! We could get arrested." She began to push her dress back down.

He leaned back onto his knees. "Molly, there's no one around."

"But how can you be certain of that?" she cried in dismay as she sat up.

He sighed wearily, but decided to not push the issue, not wanting her to feel embarrassed. Then suddenly he came upon an idea.

"What if I know of a place nearby where we could go?"

Molly eyed him suspiciously. "What sort of place?"

"A barn of sorts," he replied.

Her apprehensive gaze didn't waver. "What do you mean by 'of sorts'? And how is that any better than shagging out here?"

Sherlock forced himself not to roll his eyes again. "I don't know if it's actually a barn, but it looked entirely abandoned. I'm only suggesting it because it seemed that you didn't like the idea of having sex out in the open."

She sat their silently for several moments, contemplating.

"Please Molly? I want you … and I think you want me too."

Her eyes met his. "Smug git."

He smiled.

"All right … show me, take me there," she said as she held her hands out to him.

"Oh I intend to," he replied as he took her hands in his and helped her to her feet.

He led her into the forest and they only had to walk a short way before they came upon the building he had been referring to. It was a barn of sorts, but looked slightly dilapidated, as if it had been not used for a few years.

"Think it will be locked?" she asked as they moved towards the door.

Sherlock shrugged. "Unlikely. But if it is, I can pick it open."

As it were, the door was not locked. They stepped inside, momentarily unable to see in the darkness. Shafts of light splintered in through the openings between the planks of wood. The barn was empty, except for a few small piles of hay.

"Romantic spot," Molly quipped.

He turned and looked at her. "It's only for a quick shag, it's not like we're going to stay the night here."

She smiled. "I love it when you say shag."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Heh … heh … you hate me so much right now. Don't you?!
> 
> Well, fear not my lovelies, the second part of the Sex Holiday will be posted within the week, I'm just not sure when though because I AM GOING TO BE SEEING HAMLET ON THURSDAY! Squeeeeee! :D
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> As always, please leave a review, I'm sure you know by now how much I enjoy them!


	39. I Love it When You Say Shag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay, I had originally all intentions on getting this chapter out to you so much sooner but some major family issues got in the way and just put me in a bad headspace :-/ 
> 
> I wanted to work on this chapter but the motivation just wasn’t there. I think it’s finally coming back though because I was finally able to sit down and bring this into completion! Yipeee!
> 
> Also, I’m such an idiot for not posting this link before!! This ---> Villa San Rocco is what I am basing their Villa on :D Look at how amazing it is!! *heart eyes*
> 
> Oh and hehe, Sweet’s and Lil are to blame for a few naughty bits that occur in this chapter ;)
> 
> Also, there’s a particular scene in here just for Shazzykins as well :)
> 
> Enough of my waffling! On to the chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

* * *

"I love it when you say shag," Molly said to him as she smiled.

Sherlock pulled her close and kissed her hungrily. "How shall I take you Molly? Against the wall?"

Her answering whimper was all the affirmation he needed. He smiled as he picked her up in his arms and she instantly hooked her legs around his waist. He kissed her again as he held her to the wooden boards, the pair of them groaning as his erection ground against her.

With one hand Sherlock pushed up her dress, letting out a moan as he realized she wasn't wearing any knickers, before undoing the button and zip of his trousers. His cock fell into his hand, hot and heavy. He kissed her again as he positioned himself.

"Don't hold back Molly, be as loud as you want, there's no one to hear you scream, only me!" He thrust into her as hard as he could, his hips smacking against hers.

"Fuck!" she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she held onto him tightly. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" She continued to babble out an array of curse words as he pounded into her, never before had he taken her so hard and fast.

"Do you like the way my cock feels inside your pussy Molly?" he growled out, she nearly came right then and there. "Does my cock feel good?"

"So good! So good!" she whimpered out, as he suddenly slowed his movements, tilting his hips so that the head dragged against her inner walls in just the right way. "Fuck, Sherlock. Oh fuck!"

"How does my cock make your pussy feel?" he asked her, his tone low and deep, as he continued to repeat his slow movements.

She let out a soft whine. "Your cock, oh your cock makes my pussy feel so good Sherlock. It feels amazing! Your cock is so thick and you fill me up so completely! Please Sherlock, oh please! Fuck me hard again!" Her sentence ended as she cried out, for he started to thrust fast once more. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Her words quickly dissolved into incoherent babbling as his hips snapped against hers, the head of his shaft rubbing directly at her g-spot. It wasn't often that she came without clitoral stimulation, but at the moment that did not seem to be a problem. She screamed out his name as every nerve ending in her body sparked and exploded. A low wail escaped her as he continued to fuck her as hard as he could until he roared out his release, pressing her almost roughly against the wall.

Only mere moments passed before he realized what he had done. He looped his arm around her back and held her close against him, breathing heavily against her neck.

"Sherlock, oh Sherlock," she whimpered.

He cradled her, and practically carried her towards one of the piles of hay. They collapsed onto it and he continued to hold her close, pressing gentle kisses to her face. When she started to giggle he stopped, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

"Laughter? At a time like this?" he asked her.

"Sorry." She giggled again. "I was just thinking back to when we visited your parents, and after we solved the Rucastle case we had sex on a bale of hay!"

Sherlock smiled. "Ahh yes, I remember that quite well." He frowned. "That was out in the open!"

Molly rolled her eyes. "It was the middle of the night."

He continued to frown so she decided to kiss it away. A Sudden rumble of thunder over head caused them to pull apart.

"I think we should pack up our picnic that sounds close by," she said to him, as thunder rumbled once more.

They quickly made themselves decent and hurried out of the barn and back towards their things. The white puffy clouds had turned a steel grey, and had formed into one massive cloud. There was a brilliant flash of light, followed by a loud clap that seemed to shake the trees surrounding them. Sherlock grabbed up the blanket and basket as Molly tucked herself close up against him. They hurried towards the car and made it inside just as fat rain drops began to fall.

It poured the entire drive back, the thunder so loud that the car rattled. The rain hadn't let up by the time they arrived at the villa. They looked at each other, contemplating if they should just make a run for it.

"Let's just do it," Molly said.

Sherlock unbuckled himself and within a matter of seconds they had both made a mad dash for the front door. In spite of how quickly they ran they still managed to get completely soaked. Molly was laughing as they hurried inside. As they stood there the lights flickered, then went out.

"I think this is a perfect opportunity to put the fireplace to good use," she said to him.

Sherlock smiled, running his hand down the length of her arm. "If you start the fire, I'll go get blankets and pillows from one of the other rooms."

She nodded and they parted, using their mobiles to light their way. By the time Sherlock entered the verandah Molly had the fire going steadily, filling the room with a soft warm glow. The rain was still pouring down, but the thunder and lightning had mostly abated. They laid down the blankets and pillows, making a cozy bed for them.

"I think it's best if we remove these wet things," he said to her as he grabbed at the hem of her dress and pulled it up.

Molly raised her hands above her head and let out a soft gasp as his palms brushed against her breasts. He groaned when he saw that she also had not been wearing a bra, making a mental note to question her if she could continue to do so when they returned home.

Her fingers were deftly working to remove his shirt and trousers as they both kicked off their shoes. They fell down against the pillows, sighing happily as the warmth of the fire washed over their naked skin. The rain ebbed into a faint trickle.

Molly lay beneath him as he mouthed at her breasts, the heat of his mouth feeling wonderful against her rain-chilled skin. She had always wondered at the thought of why men found breasts to be so fascinating, but now she honestly didn't care. She cherished the fact that Sherlock enjoyed her breasts so much; he knew just the right way to suckle and bite at her.

And whenever he delved between her thighs, he drank up her juices as if he were in a desert and had been parched for days. She wasn't about to complain about that either. But nothing, nothing compared to when their bodies became connected in the most intimate of ways and he made love to her, slowly. Those were the moments she loved best.

She moaned beneath him, sliding her hands down his back to cup his arse as he continued to gently thrust. The look on his face as he stared down at her sent a fantastic thrill through her body. It was so similar to the expression he had had on that fateful night when he had come to her flat and they had embarked upon their journey together.

"Kiss me," she whispered to him.

He did so, their lips moving together, tongues sliding.

"I never knew …," he murmured to her, when they parted for breath, as he sustained the same slow pace. "I never knew that I could feel like this. You've made me so happy, Molly. You  _make_  me happy."

She brought her hands up and cupped his face, pulling him back down to her for another kiss. "You make me happy too, Sherlock. I'm so glad I never gave up on you."

He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes falling closed, keeping his cock moving almost lazily in and out of her sweet warmth. "Thank you Molly, thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for loving me even when I didn't deserve it."

She kissed him again, crying out against his lips as he gave one hard thrust, before returning to his slow tempo. Their bodies moved in unison as they both grew silent, except for a few quiet moans and whispers of affection. As Molly came undone beneath him, Sherlock watched in awe of the beauty of her, his heart practically aching with his love for her. And when he came she held him close, whispering softly to him. He had never felt so at peace.

* * *

They had been on honeymoon for a little over a month now and the amount of sex they were having had as of yet to subside, in both quantity and quality.

"Would you like to go out on the lake Molly?" Sherlock asked her suddenly.

"Mmm?" she asked dumbly, her mind was in a bit of a fug, still recovering from the mind blowing orgasm he had just given her.

He smiled smugly and repeated his question, rolling on to his side, propping his head onto his hand.

"Oh. Yeah, that'd be nice," she answered slowly.

His smile widened. "Good, because I've rented a sailboat."

She blinked at him, frowning ever so slightly. "You know how to sail?" A sigh escaped her. "Sometimes I feel highly inadequate in comparison to you."

"Molly!" Sherlock moved closer to her, cradling her face in his hands. "Please don't think like that anymore. You're not inadequate, not in the slightest. I could never wield a scalpel as well as you."

She giggled, and he smiled again.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" she asked him.

He pretended to think. "Mmm, I think once or twice."

She gave his curls a none-too-tender tug and he laughed.

A short time later they were making their way down the path towards the water. Molly was wearing a thin, nearly see-through dress over her bikini which was making it difficult for Sherlock to focus. She pretended to be oblivious to this, reveling in the fact that even after weeks of making love and ravishing each others bodies he still was turned on by the sight of her. Silently she hoped that this feeling would last for forever.

When they reached the dock he guided her towards a large sailboat. She was rather shocked by the sight of it. It wasn't exactly that it was massive, but it looked as if it could easily hold six or seven people. It seemed that when you were a Holmes, you had the choice to either go big or go home. Sherlock held his hand out to her and helped her to board.

Once they had settled and Molly had gotten the chance to look about, Sherlock explained to her how the sails worked and allowed her to help him to raise them.

They slowly made their way from the dock, a good wind settling in so that they made it out into the middle of the lake quite easily. Molly was dumbstruck by the sight of the town from the water. This seemed to be a common occurance over the course of these passed few weeks, but she honestly couldn't help it. She loved London, and found a lot of beauty in it, but nothing quite like what she was seeing here in Italy.

Sherlock sailed up and down the lake a few times, not stopping until he reached a small alcove that was tucked away out of sight. After he dropped anchor, Molly laid out a large towel on the bow of the ship and untied her bikini top, slipping it off. Sherlock stopped what he was doing and stared at her. She smiled as she stretched herself out on the towel.

"I used to sunbathe topless all the time when I was younger," she explained to him, her smile widening as she watched him swallow. She leaned back, sighing happily as she removed her sunglasses and closed her eyes.

He cleared his throat and quickly removed his t-shirt and loose cotton trousers. When he came near her to check the rigging she opened her eyes and peered up at him.

"Sherlock are you wearing a Speedo?" she asked.

"Yes, what of it?" he replied, not turning to look at her.

She started to laugh. "Oh nothing, I just … I just can't take you seriously wearing that! You look ridiculous!"

He had chosen one with the Union Jack on it.

"Well," he huffed at last turning about to face her, "if they bother you so much I could just remove them!"

"No don't!" she shrieked, but it was too late, he had already done so, throwing them off to the other side of the boat with a flourish.

"Better?" he asked her, smirking devilishly as he settled himself down onto his back beside her, stretching out his long legs.

She pouted, trying to keep her gaze from drifting downwards. "You wore those on purpose!"

He shrugged in answer, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Molly continued to glare at him, already beginning to feel a faint trickle of wet warmth forming between her legs. She at last allowed herself to divulge in looking at his cock. He was half hard already. In one swift move she had taken off her own swim suit bottoms, throwing them to join his Speedo.

"I thought you didn't mind tan lines," he murmured softly, having popped one eye open.

She smiled at him before straddling his waist. His hands automatically moved out from beneath his head and came to rest on her hips.

"I don't," she said to him. "I just thought perhaps it would best to be entirely naked for what we're about to do."

"Oh, are we about to do something?" he asked her. He hitched in a breath when he felt her hand wrap around his now nearly hard cock.

"We most definitely are," she answered him.

It only took a few pumps with her hand for him to reach full hardness, and that was when she slid down onto him, encasing his cock into her smooth, wet warmth.

"Molly!" he groaned, moving his hands upwards to cup her breasts.

She moaned in response and began to move, rocking her body in time to the gentle sway of the boat. She rode him like this for several minutes, as he pinched and rolled her nipples between his fingertips, before she suddenly leaned back onto her hands. She knew how much he enjoyed the sight of her impaling herself onto his cock.

He swore loudly, his eyes locked onto the spot where she again and again slid his length in and out. When she slipped him fully out of her, his mouth dropped open as she rotated her hips so that the head swirled over her clit. Her back was arched; her lips parted in a silent cry, as she sank back down onto him and began to ride him as hard as she could. He was groaning now, uncontrollably and she was making soft little noises as they grew closer to their climax. They came together, her body trembling above his. He sat up, putting his arms around her and pulled her down.

They lay in the warm sunshine, slowly recovering their breath between lazy kisses. Sherlock's fingertips were trailing across her breasts, causing her nipples to pebble from his touch.

"How about a swim?" she asked him, the heat from the sun beginning to get to her.

"All right."

"I hope you brought your swimming trunks," she said, a stern look in her eyes.

He smiled. "Of course I did. I just wore the Speedo because I wanted to see your reaction. You didn't disappoint."

She rolled her eyes, giving his chest a light smack with her hand. "Git."

His smile grew cheeky. She sat up and quickly gathered up her bikini before putting it back on. She then climbed onto the edge of the boat and dove head first into the cool water. Sherlock went into the cabin and took out his swimming trunks that he had stowed away. He pulled them on and walked over to the same spot that Molly had jumped from. He watched her for a few moments as she swam about; when she dipped back under he waited until she surfaced then dove in next to her.

She let out a shriek then splashed him in the face. He returned the splash, which resulted in a full-out water war. It didn't end until he reached out and pulled her to him. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, she held on to him, the water too deep for her to stand.

"We can stay the night here if you like," Sherlock said to her a little while later, when they were once more lying in the sunshine. "I brought enough provisions to do so."

Molly kissed him in answer.

That evening they ate and drank as the sun began to set. The air grew cooler as the stars appeared one by one. Sherlock brought out pillows and blankets from the cabin, making for them a cozy bed. They removed their swim clothes and lay naked beneath the blanket. It wasn't long before they were kissing yet again, letting out moans of encouragement as fingertips caressed each other.

They slowly made love again, the gentle pitch and roll of the boat adding to the sensations as their bodies moved as one. When both of them were satiated and spent, they fell asleep beneath the twinkling stars and glowing moon.

* * *

Molly wasn't entirely certain as to why, but the sight of Sherlock sleeping was a beautiful thing. He looked almost childlike, his expression was so peaceful. But more often than not, after she had spent several minutes staring at him, he would suddenly smile and she knew that he was awake. He wouldn't open his eyes though; instead he would reach out blindly for her and pull her close, burrowing his face somewhere into her skin. Depending on how they were laying he tended to rather conveniently end up between her breasts. This morning was no different. She let out a quiet giggle as she became tucked beneath him, running her hands down the smooth expanse of his back. He nuzzled her left breast, breathing in deeply the scent of her.

"Sherlock," she whispered softly.

He let out a noise of acknowledgement, his mouth a little too preoccupied for speech.

"Can we go into the town today?"

He let out another noise, before taking her nipple between his teeth and giving it a tender nibble. Molly's brain momentarily short-circuited as he continued to mouth at her breast while covering the other with his hand. Damn him for his distracting tactics! By the time he was satisfied she was an aching mess, desperate for him.

The sex was a bit rough and fast, over almost too quickly. But he managed to coax another orgasm out of her by taking her clit between his lips. They were now cuddling beneath the sheets, murmuring quietly to each other between lazy kisses. Sherlock's mouth began to wander, and as he pressed a kiss to a different part of her body he would quietly state the Latin name. When she gave his curls a slight tug, and he brought himself up so that he was at level with her she kissed him as deeply as she could manage.

He rolled onto his back, tugging her on top of him so that their bodies were nestled together. She gave him a contented smile when they parted for air, her legs coming to fall on either side of his.

"I still want to go into town," she said to him.

He gave an over-dramatic sigh, slightly disappointed that his lovemaking had failed to detract her from her previous suggestion. She laughed at his annoyance, making him scowl at her.

"It's just the one day!"

He pouted, and she sucked his bottom lip between hers. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, capturing her in a deep kiss. It was several minutes before either one of them spoke again.

"Please Sherlock?" She quickly schooled her features into her best interpretation of his sad puppy eyes.

He groaned, leaning his head back into the pillow. He was always done for whenever she looked at him like that. Molly laughed again, shifting her body ever so slightly. Sherlock's hold on her hips tightened, and he let out another groan when she gave a faint wiggle.

"Quit doing that if you actually plan on leaving the bed today!" he growled out, making her laugh once more.

She then sat up abruptly and slipped off of the bed, padding naked towards the loo. He watched her, drinking in the sight of her before jumping up and quickly following. She let out a shriek as he came up behind her and scooped her into his arms before continuing to carry her into the shower.

The room was filled with steam by the time that they surfaced. Molly quickly plaited her hair before she slipped on a pair of knickers (which made Sherlock pout), then a yellow sundress over it. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he smiled. Once he was dressed they made their way outside to the car.

It was only a short drive into the town, and it didn't take him long to find a space to park the car. The day was a sunny one, but the breeze coming off of the lake was cool. They strolled along the water, their arms around each other.

They stopped to have a bite to eat in one of the local restaurants, Sherlock rattling off flawless Italian as he gave the waiter their orders. They feasted on risotto con pesce persico, farfalle ai funghi porcini, and rustisciada, paired with a delicious red wine. Molly was certain that she had never before eaten anything that tasted so spectacular. By the time they were finished the sun was starting to drop lower in the sky.

The air was growing cooler and Sherlock took off his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders. They found a slightly secluded spot looking out over the water and settled down. She curled into his side, sighing happily.

"Does it feel strange for you, to not be running around London, solving cases? I thought your mind needed the  _work?_ " she said to him, after several minutes of silence.

Sherlock had his arm around her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before saying, "Usually my mind does require the constant puzzles and mystery, but not so with you. You quiet my mind in a way that nothing and no one else ever has."

Molly tilted her head back so that they could look at each other. They shared a smile before he pulled her in for a kiss, and when they parted they entered once more into a comfortable silence. The sun began to dip behind the mountains, showering the area with its golden rays. She took a couple of pictures with her phone before Sherlock grabbed it from her and switched the camera around. She let out a giggle as he snapped a few of them.

"Can we get some gelato? I'll never forgive myself if we leave and I never had gelato!" she said to him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but helped her to stand. They found a nearby gelateria and Molly was as exuberant as a child. At first she had a difficult time making a decision as to what flavour she wanted, but she eventually picked Bacio, a delicious unison of chocolate and hazelnut. Sherlock went for a simple one, Stracciatella; vanilla with chocolate chips. They returned outside and sat, watching the sky continue to change colours.

When they were finished eating, Molly went back into the shop to use the loo before they returned to their villa. She gave one final loving look at the glistening, beckoning dollops of cream on display before walking out. But she came to a stop when she saw that there was a woman speaking with Sherlock. Molly stood in the doorway, watching the pair of them converse. She couldn't help but think that the woman reminded her somewhat of Janine. She had the same dark hair, fine skin, but a much larger chest, which was shown off by her low-cut top. She was gesticulating (as only Italians do), and appeared to be very animated.

Molly felt a slight twinge in her heart, hating the fact that there was jealousy beginning to course through her veins. She tore her gaze away from the attractive woman and focused instead on Sherlock. This was a wise decision, for the moment she saw his expression she instantly felt better. He looked indifferent, not remotely interested in her, and seemed to be completely unaware that the woman was more or less coming on to him.

Straightening her posture, Molly began to walk towards them, placing her hand on the strap of her bag so that her engagement and wedding ring would catch the light, and possibly the eye of this overly flirtatious woman.

"Aha!" the woman exclaimed loudly, "I know now why you look so familiar. You are the ahh- famous detective, the one who wears the silly hat, Sherlock Holmes!"

Molly bit back a laugh, as she stepped up to them, for the look on Sherlock's face was priceless. How he abhorred that deer stalker!

"Yes. I am," he answered, plastering a rather fake looking smile upon his lips. "But I don't normally wear the hat." He turned to Molly, slipping his arm around her waist. "Ready to go darling?" he asked her.

She forced herself to hold in another laugh, entirely unaccustomed to him using such a term with her. "Yes I am."

Sherlock switched his gaze back to the woman standing before them. "This is my-"

Molly cut in before he could finish, "His wife, Dr. Molly Holmes."

The woman looked as if she had drunk from a glass of sour wine.

Sherlock's fake smile widened. "Arrivederci!" He steered Molly away from her, and began to make their way down the path along the lake.

Once they had gone a considerable distance Molly said, "Sherlock! She was flirting with you!"

He stopped, his face going blank. Molly quickly noticed that he was no longer beside her, and stopped as well to turn about. She rolled her eyes when she took note of his Buffering Mode expression, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping at the ground with her shoe. It took him thirty seconds to come back to her. And when he did he strode forwards, pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, even managing to dip her back, in a slightly dramatic fashion.

Molly couldn't help but giggle. "What was that for?"

He tilted his head slightly. "She is still watching us."

"Oh. In that case perhaps you should kiss me again!"

He did so, before continuing to hold her close as they strolled towards their car. Once they had settled in and he drove off, Molly turned to look at him.

"Did you honestly not have a clue she was flirting with you?"

He kept his eyes on the road before them. "No. I didn't."

Molly crossed her arms. "How is that possible? You always knew when I was flirting with you. And you flirted right back with Janine at John and Mary's wedding."

Sherlock let out a sniff. "Perhaps my marrying you has forced me to subconsciously delete how to flirt, and how to realize when I am being flirted with?"

Molly threw her head back and laughed. She reached across and ran her fingers through his curls at the nape of his neck. "What am I to do with you?"

He smiled, throwing her a sly glance. "Oh, I can think of several different things!"

* * *

It was their last night in Italy. Sherlock had told her that they could extend their sex holiday but she had firmly told him no. The offer was intriguing, but she knew deep down that Sherlock was desperate to get back to England. He may pride himself on being an excellent actor, but she could see through any façade he put up and she knew, oh yes she knew, that he missed London, and that he missed Baker Street.

But she wasn't about to allow them to spend their last night in Italy without having a bit of fun. She had made them a luxurious dinner; ravioli with mushrooms and drizzled with truffle oil. Sherlock couldn't stop eating it, and Molly made mental note to remind herself to make it again after they returned home.

After dinner they had gone for a leisurely swim in the pool, naked. The majority of their time in the water was spent kissing, as the steam from the warmth of the heated water rose around them. When they began to get a bit wrinkly they got out of the water and showered.

Now they were on the bed, the balcony doors thrown open to let in the fresh evening air. Since Molly had been taking the lead that whole evening he allowed her to make the first move. With a twinkle in her eyes she got up off of the bed and walked towards one of their suitcases. He watched her silently as she searched within it, reaching down to stroke his cock.

He did long for home, but there was something wonderful about having her entirely to himself that he was going to miss. Never in all of his adult life had he ever thought that he would enjoy two whole months spent with only one person, but never had he once considered that particular person to be Molly Hooper. No - Molly Holmes. She was Molly  _Holmes_  now. He smiled to himself at the thought as he continued to pump his length.

When she turned about and moved back towards the bed, a soft metallic noise coming from what she was holding behind her, he quickened the pace of his hand. Her eyes zeroed in on his leaking shaft, her tongue sneaking out to lick her bottom lip. She was staring at him hungrily. He gave his cock one final stroke before dropping his hand away. She swallowed and climbed back onto the bed, he looked at her expectantly.

Molly held up a pair of handcuffs, smiling wickedly at him. "Do you mind?" she asked.

He shook his head, and her smile widened. She took his hands in hers and clasped the handcuffs around his wrists, before gently raising his hands above his head, pressing them down into a pillow, her breasts dangling enticingly over his head.

"Keep your hands there," she instructed, and he nodded once more. She straddled his chest, lowered her head and began to slowly kiss her way down his body, suckling and nipping at his skin. When she reached his stomach she stopped and sat up. "Wait one moment," she told him, before she slipped off the bed once more.

Sherlock watched her as she moved over to the wardrobe and began to burrow about. His cock ached at the sight of her bent over. When she returned to the bed she was holding in her a hand a small pink, oblong object. She clicked a button at one end and a soft buzzing sound filled the room.

"Care to have a bit of fun?" she asked him.

He breathed in loudly, and she chuckled.

"I take it that is a yes?"

He nodded yet again, clearly having lost his ability for speech. She smiled and moved to straddle his legs. Ever so slowly she touched the vibrator to his inner thigh. Sherlock's body twitched, but other than that he stayed still. She moved the vibrator upwards, stopping when she neared his bollocks. Pulling away she switched to his other leg.

"Is that all right? Do you like the way it feels?" she asked him.

He cleared his throat. "I like it," he choked out.

Her smile widened and she moved the vibrator upward and further inward but still didn't touch him. His cock was fully erect now; she could practically see it pulsing. She very lightly teased at the base, and he swore.

"Would you like more of that?" she asked cheekily, looking up at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he answered with a low growl, making her chuckle with delight. She moved the tip of the vibrator along his length, circling the head. He swore again, a shudder running through his body as she brought it down the other side of him. Laying down the vibrator she situated herself more comfortably and whispered his name, her breath ghosting across the glistening tip of his cock.

"Sherlock look at me."

He slowly opened his eyes, peering down at her, breathing heavily.

"I want you to watch me take your cock into my mouth."

He swore loudly yet again but didn't look away. She kept her eyes locked on his, making sure that he was watching, before she took the head between her lips. He groaned amazed by the fact that having the visual made the sensation so much more intense. She swirled her tongue around the tip before taking in a bit more of him. Suddenly he felt the vibe press against his bollocks, and his hips bucked slightly. She smiled as she continued to suck and lick his cock as she rolled the vibe over him. It was almost all too much for his brain, he felt over-whelmed and yet also a strange sense of euphoria. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, and when his orgasm struck, it felt as if a surge of lightning had coursed through his body.

Molly turned off the vibe and slowly slipped his softening cock from her mouth. She peppered his stomach with kisses before she made her way up his body. He stared up at her as she grabbed the key off of the bedside table, and held herself over him and unlocked the handcuffs. She eased down his arms, and gently massaged each wrist, placing a kiss on the faintly red areas where the cuffs had dug into his skin.

"You're turn," he growled out suddenly, grabbing at her hands, rolling them over so that she was now lying beneath him.

She giggled, looking up at him expectantly. He kissed her and reached out blindly for the handcuffs. Sherlock felt her gasp into his mouth as he took a hold of both of her wrists and cuffed her. He mirrored her earlier movements; raising her hands above her head as he broke apart the kiss.

"All right?" he asked her, and she nodded, clutching at the pillow beneath her fingers.

Sherlock leisurely traveled down her body, not exactly kissing her skin, but more so hovering his lips over her, in a teasing and taunting sort of way. When he reached her breasts he flicked at each nipple with the tip of his tongue. He give her skin a few tender bites as he made his way further downward and when he reached the apex between her legs, he was pleased by the sigh; she was soaked by her arousal.

He took up the vibrator that was still buzzing quietly, and fiddled with it for several moments before he figured out how to intensify the vibrations. Molly whimpered softly and he looked up at her.

"Would you like me to use this on you?" he questioned, his voice deepening.

She looked down at him and nodded.

"Where would you like me to use it?" he asked slowly. "Here?" He raised his hand and gently circled her pebbled nipple with the vibe. "And here?" He switched to her other breast as she let out a small cry of pleasure. "Where else? Tell me Molly. Would you like it on your clit? How about in your sweet, wet cunt, would you like that?"

"Both, both Sherlock!" she gasped out, squeezing her eyes shut as the sound of the vibe grew fainter.

He spread her legs apart, opening her up to him. Her loud moan filled the room as he ever so lightly touched the vibe to her clit. He slid it downwards, reaching her entrance, circling it, spreading her juices.

"Do you want it in your cunt Molly? Your tight pussy? Is that where you want it? To be filled up? Not nearly though as much as my cock fills you …" He continued to tease her with his dirty words, watching as she grew even wetter.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried as she opened her eyes and looked down at him. "I want it in my pussy, please!"

He delved the vibe into her and she moaned wildly, her cuffed hands holding tightly onto the pillow as her back arched, her breasts jutting forward. He slowly moved the vibe in and out of her, tilting it in just the right way so that it touched upon all the areas that drove her positively wild.

When he leaned forward and took her swollen clit between his lips she screamed. Just as it had been for him, the feeling was almost too much for her. She nearly blacked out from the overwhelming sensations; her body shaking as her orgasm soared through her.

Sherlock slowly slid the vibrator from her, turning it off and tossing it to the side as he continued to gently nuzzle at her clit. She gave one final shudder and grew still upon the bed, whimpering softly. He sat up, licking her juices from his lips.

His cock was hard already, and the sight of her with her arms over her head, stretching out her torso caused his cock to twitch in anticipation. He moved onto his knees, settling himself between her legs.

"Do you want me to fuck your tight pussy with my cock, is that what you want Molly?" he asked as he gave himself a few short pumps.

"Oh gahhhhh – pl-please Sherlock!" She had opened her eyes and was looking at him, breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling. "Please!"

"Tell me what you want Molly. I need to hear you say it."

She let out a faint wail. "I want your cock in my pussy; I need your cock Sherlock!" Her sentence ended in a wild moan of delight as he nudged in the head.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked as he sank into her, as deeply as he could go. He leaned forward, crushing her breasts against his chest, his lips nearly touching hers as his bollocks became nestled against the curves of her arse.

"Yes!" she gasped, raising her legs to lock them about his waist. "Fuck me, please!"

He kept one hand beside her shoulder, holding himself steady and the other he brought up to clasp onto her bound hands. He kissed her as he began to move. He didn't start out slowly, instead settling right away into deep, swift thrusts.

"Yes. Yes. Yes!" she panted out, in time with his movements.

He kissed her again and again, groaning into her mouth.

"So close," she sobbed, pressing her hips up to meet his, arching her lower back so that his pelvis hit her in just the right way.

The sounds that their flesh was making was the most erotic thing Molly had ever heard, and each time that he impaled her with his cock she felt her nerve endings practically explode. Her entire body felt as if it was on fire. She gripped tightly onto his hand as he continued to thrust into her as hard as he could.

"That's it Molly," he said to her, "Come for me, come around my cock."

"Fuck!" she cried out, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her orgasm rocketed over her.

Sherlock didn't stop, continuing to thrust as she tightened around him. "So good Molly, so good!" he groaned out. His bollocks grew taut and he gave one last thrust and his cock pulsed in side of her. He continued to moan into her neck, telling her over and over how good she felt to him. Her bound hands held onto his, fingers clutching at fingers.

She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. After a few more moments he tilted his head back and looked at her, his face flushed.

"Am I crushing you?" he asked concerned.

She shook her head. "No. But my arms are starting to get tingly."

Sherlock sat up abruptly and lowered her hands to her chest before he began to search about for the key. He found it and quickly unlocked the handcuffs, throwing them to the floor before taking her wrists and massaging them to bring back the blood flow. He nuzzled and kissed at her skin, stopping when she tilted her palms so that she could cup his face in her hands.

"Come here," she said gently.

He moved until he was lying beside her.

"That was …" her voice trailed off.

He smiled, nodding in agreement; no words could suffice how that had made them both feel. She rolled onto her side and he pressed himself against her, sighing happily, reveling in the warmth and smoothness of her skin against his. Silence fell, and Sherlock had very nearly been asleep when suddenly she spoke.

"I think we may need to take a sex sabbatical when we go home."

He reared back, looking at her appalled, but his worry soon dissipated when he spotted the impish twinkle in her eyes. He let out an undignified snort, returning to where he had previously been resting his head, before stating haughtily, "Sex sabbatical my arse!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles* Sure Molly … surrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeee!!! Hehehehe :D
> 
> Please do leave a review, they mean so much to me!


	40. Sex Sabbatical My Arse!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy almost two-months later update Batman!
> 
> HAHAHA ... what? ...
> 
> Anywaaaaayyyy ... terribly sorry for the long wait.
> 
> Most likely this will be my last update for this year because the holidays are coming and I have family visiting and of course
> 
> THE SHERLOLLY BIG BANG CHALLENGE will be posting on the 20th so I don't really want to take away from those glorious fics (no I didn't join it).
> 
> Fear not though, my lovely readers, I have no intention of abandoning this fic!
> 
> Enough of my waffling, read on! :)

 

* * *

"Sex sabbatical my arse!" Sherlock stated haughtily.

Molly giggled and he turned his head to glare at her, making her giggle louder. His eyes narrowed for a millisecond before he pounced, pressing her into the mattress. She shrieked wildly, gasping for breath as be began to dance his fingertips across her rib cage. Her laughter rang out. He silenced her mirth with a deep kiss, stopping his fingers only to encase her breasts in his hands.

"You wouldn't even last a day!" he declared.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Is that a challenge?"

He choked back a swallow. "No."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Not now," he said firmly. "Not when we're still in the early stages of our married life." He nibbled on her bottom lip. "But that doesn't mean that we can't try that eventually!" His eyes twinkled, just like hers had earlier.

"See who breaks first, hmm?"

He smiled widely. "I'm quite certain it will be you."

She answered his smile with a cheeky one of her own. "Oh ... we'll see about that!"

The next morning they did not leave the bed straight away, even though they needed to finish their packing and get to the airport by a certain time. Sherlock was determined to have one last slow bout of sex in their honeymoon bed, and Molly didn't have any objections to this. By the time that they made it into the shower they were cutting it close. He scoffed when she made her worries known.

"It's a private plane, Molly, they can't leave without us!" he said to her, his soaped up hands running across her breasts.

"Yes but ... if we ... mmm!"

He had given each of her nipples a tweak with his fingers.

"If we ... Oh! ... If we arrive an hour later than we were supposed to they'll most likely know why!" She ended her sentence with a low mewl when he slipped one hand down her torso and between her legs; he was pleased to find that she was not only wet from the water.

He snorted, dropping his hands down to lift her up and press her into the wall so that he could drive his cock into her in one swift stroke. She swore beneath her breath, her legs locking around his waist.

"And - what - if - they - do?" With each word he gave a thrust then stilled his movements. "We are  _still_ on honeymoon, Molly. It's to be expected."

She sighed, but willingly accepted her fate, moaning loudly as he once more returned to filling her with his length again and again.

Amazingly enough they managed to arrive at the airport practically on time. Once they were settled in their seats and the plane prepared for take-off, Molly announced to Sherlock that she intended to sleep the majority of the flight. He pouted, of course, but it was quickly replaced with a wide grin when Molly handed him her tablet and informed him that she had downloaded an old chemistry textbook that she was certain he would find intriguing. He kissed her, murmuring a thank you against her lips.

After pushing up the arm rest she snuggled herself against his chest and he put his arm around her. The steady beat of his heart lulled her into sleep, but before she knew it he was nudging her awake.

"Molly …"

"Hmmm?" She buried her face against him. "Five more minutes!"

He chuckled. "Molly we're here, we're in London."

She blinked sleepily up at him. "Oh!" She wiped at her eyes, yawning loudly as she unbuckled her seatbelt, before following him off of the plane.

They stepped out onto the tarmac where their luggage was already being loaded into the waiting car, and she peered up at the sky.

"Quite a difference from sunny Italy!" she said to him.

Sherlock followed her gaze, looking up at the low grey clouds. He breathed in deeply. "It feels good to be home though."

Molly smiled as they got into the car, both of them looking out the windows; the familiar sights of their beloved city moving passed as they made their way to Baker Street.

Upon arriving at their destination they got out of the car, and when Molly went to grab her suitcase Sherlock stopped her and she looked at him with a questioning look. He only answered with a cheeky smile.

"Sherlock!" Molly giggled as he scooped her up into his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you over the threshold," he explained as he unlocked the door.

She giggled again as she looped her arms around his neck. "So much for not following tradition!"

He humphed, but couldn't hold back a grin.

"You don't have to carry me up the stairs," she told him as he stepped inside of the building of 221B, pulling the door shut behind him.

He settled her down onto her feet, cradling her face in his hands before giving her a gentle kiss. "Welcome home ..." he murmured against her lips.

She smiled up at him.

"Do you think there's any chance Mrs. Hudson is unaware of our arrival?" he asked quietly.

Molly rolled her eyes and began to ascend the stairs. "I highly doubt it." She could hear him grumbling under his breath.

They entered the flat and were instantly greeted with a loud chorus of meows. Toby was purring as he rubbed up against Molly's ankles. She lifted him into her arms and snuggled him close. Sherlock put down the one bag he had carried up and made his way downstairs to get the rest of their luggage.

By the time he returned Mrs. Hudson had managed to make her way into the flat, and was practically cooing over Molly. She had brought them their post; three large bundles. Before Sherlock was able to open his mouth, Mrs. Hudson made her way towards the door.

"I'll leave you two alone to settle back in. I know what it's like to be a newly-wed!" she said to them with a saucy wink.

Molly placed her hand on Sherlock's arm, stopping him from spewing who knows what. Mrs. Hudson gave them one last cheeky smile before stepping out of the flat and closing the door behind her. Sherlock strode towards it, locked it then spun about it and moved towards Molly. She had started to go through the envelopes, but they fell from her hands when he wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her up. She hung over his shoulder, as he carried her towards the direction of the bedroom. She giggled, not putting up a fuss whatsoever.

After kicking the door shut behind them he put her down and grabbed at the hem of her blouse, pulling it up and over her head. Molly reached behind and undid the clasp of her bra and as soon as the cups fell away Sherlock latched onto one of her nipples, suckling it between his lips as if he had not tasted of her skin for ages.

He nudged her towards the bed and she fell back down onto it as he climbed over her. She struggled to unbutton his shirt as he continued to ravish her breasts, and he regretfully pulled away from her in order to remove the rest of their clothing. The moment they were both naked she expected him to move back on top of her, but instead he stood at the side and rolled her onto her stomach. She looked at him questioningly over her shoulder as he tapped his fingertips on the swell of her bum.

"Onto your knees, Molly," he instructed; his voice dropping into a deeper tone.

She let out a faint squeak and did so. Her arse was in the air, facing him. He couldn't hold back a groan at the sight of her glistening folds; she was on display. Leaning forward he gave her seam a quick swipe with his tongue, and she cried out.

He got onto the bed, kneeling behind her. "Keep your legs together, Molly. I want you to be as tight as possible."

She cursed beneath her breath, clutching at the bedcovers as he settled himself and took his cock in his hand. He pressed the swollen, crimson head into her, muttering a curse of his own as he was met with a slight restriction. She bit down on her arm to keep from crying out, her moan muffled as he last entered her fully. Momentarily she wondered how a simple change of position could feel so different and so good, but quickly all thoughts left her as he began to thrust. He held onto her hips, making certain that his bollocks pressed against her labia before he pulled out to the tip, only to do it all over again. This slow pace continued until Molly cried out.

"Please Sherlock, harder!"

He cursed and delved into her, settling into a rapid pace of deep, solid thrusts. His bollocks made contact with her clit each time, sending little fissures of pleasure surging through her body.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Sherlock yes!" she moaned wildly. "Oh fuck I love your cock!" She pressed her face into the mattress, screaming as her orgasm struck.

He hissed out a curse before groaning her name as she became so tight around him that he could no longer thrust, but it didn't matter. Her walls fluttered about him, milking from him his own orgasm.

"Molly, Molly!" he moaned as she continued to contract around him.

After he gently nudged her legs apart he slipped out of her and she fell to the side. Sherlock dropped down onto his stomach where she had previously been kneeling. He smiled at her as they both struggled for breath. She pulled herself towards him, nuzzling at his shoulder. Neither one of them spoke until they had regained a more normal tempo of breathing.

"I love you Sherlock."

He hummed softly, tilting his head to press his lips between her brows. "Love you too."

Within minutes they were both asleep.

* * *

Molly woke first the next morning, Sherlock snoring quite loudly beside her. She was tempted to throw her pillow at him but decided against it. After pulling on a dressing gown she left the bedroom, Toby meowing happily at her. Once he was fed she opted for making coffee instead of her usual morning tea. When the brew had been made, she poured herself a cup and placed it on the table. She scooped up the envelopes from the floor before carrying all of the post into the kitchen. By the time she had sorted her own letters from Sherlock's, he came stumbling in. He was bedecked in a dressing gown, yawning loudly and scratching at his head.

"Hello sleepyhead!" she greeted him.

He replied with a grunt and poured himself some coffee. He plopped down into the chair next to her, nearly spilling his drink. After placing the cup onto the table he turned and burrowed his face into her neck, looping his arms around her waist.

"You've worn me out Mrs. Holmes!" he groaned into her skin.

Molly chuckled, placing her hands on his arm. "Speak for yourself Mr. Holmes!"

He nibbled at her. "I told you we weren't going to be taking a sex sabbatical!"

She laughed again as he sat up, keeping on arm about her waist, the other taking up his cup of coffee. He took a long sip, sighing happily. She leaned forward, grabbing up a few envelopes and began to open them. Sherlock watched her for a moment before he put down his coffee and followed her suit. They fell into a comfortable silence, until suddenly Molly gasped loudly.

"Oh my God."

Sherlock looked at her questioningly.

She swallowed. "Meena and Sherrinford eloped."

"WHAT?"

She handed him the card. On the front of it was a photo of the newlywed couple, bedecked with the words  _'We've Eloped!_ ' Sherlock let out a sniff of derision before he tossed it onto the table. Molly studied him for a moment.

"Does this upset you?"

He shrugged. "It just seems ridiculous that's all."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They hardly know each other, and now they're married? Setting themselves up for disaster, I think," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Molly's frown deepened. "I think you're wrong."

Sherlock looked at her. "Do you?"

"Yes. Meena isn't an idiot. And neither is your brother. And I know that Meena wouldn't marry him unless she truly loved him. Sometimes you don't need to know someone for very long, to know that you want to spend the rest of your life with them." Molly stopped, and stared down at her hands in her lap. "That's how it was for me," she added quietly.

Sherlock gently put his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap. She curled into his chest, smiling slightly as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"It's a shame that it took me so long to get my head out of my arse, hmmm?" he asked, making her giggle.

"They want us to come visit them," she said, and straight away she could hear the grumble in his chest. Rolling her eyes she slipped off of his lap, returning to her chair. "Your brother loves you Sherlock. You're twins; you have a very unique connection and you shouldn't throw that away. Just forgive him and move on."

Sherlock slowly let out a breath through his nose. "I'm not the only one who needs to do the forgiving."

Molly side-eyed him for a moment, but decided not to push the issue. If he wanted to tell her, he would in his own time. She returned her focus to her pile of post.

After a few minutes he did the same. Molly didn't realize she was doing it, but she would from time to time make a small noise. Sherlock smiled to himself as he listened to her, but looked up from the envelopes he was perusing through when she became oddly silent.

"Molly?"

She didn't answer him. He laid down his envelopes and leaned towards her.

"What's wrong?"

She slowly started to blink. "Nothing's wrong, not exactly, I'm just a little shocked that's all." She handed him the letter she had been reading.

"What, again?" He took the letter from her and within a span of several seconds had read it in entirety. "You're going to accept, aren't you?" He handed it back to her.

She stared at him. "Do you think I should?"

"Of course you should! You put a lot of time and effort into that paper. This is quite the honour, to be invited to speak at the symposium in Shanghai." Sherlock pulled her back onto his lap and kissed her. "Congratulations."

Molly leaned against him. "It's in September, so at least we have the month of August here in London. And now we have a perfect reason to visit with Sherrinford and Meena. "

Sherlock began to grumble once more but stopped when Molly tilted her head back and gave him a look. He sighed. "Fine. Now I can accept that stolen art case that I've turned down twice already."

She continued to look up at him. "You were given a case in China?"

"Yes. I was contacted several months ago but I told them no."

She laid her head back against his chest. "Why did you do that? You hardly ever turn down cases, and this doesn't sound like a 3 or a 4."

"I didn't want to leave you, I didn't think you'd want to come with me; with planning the wedding and all," he said as his arms tightened about her waist and he laid his chin upon the top of her head.

"Oh. That was very sweet of you."

Sherlock pressed his lips to her hair. "It was out of entirely selfish reasons."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't bear the thought of being away from you, not knowing how long the case would take," he explained.

Molly kissed him. He was smiling at her when they pulled apart.

"I think we need to return to bed and celebrate!" he announced, moving to his feet.

She locked her legs about his waist. "Any excuse!"

He pretended to look affronted. "I don't see you putting up much of a fight!"

She tightened her hold, making him groan as he made his way towards their bedroom. He gently laid her down upon the bed, undoing the knot of her dressing gown and pushing it open. After nudging her legs apart he settled between them and parted her folds with his thumbs.

"FUCK!" Molly moaned as he suckled her clit between his lips. "Christ Sherlock, you spoil me!"

He released her clit, staring up at her over the damp curls covering her sex. "What do you mean?" he asked, before he circled the tender nub with his tongue.

She whimpered. "Men don't usually go down on a woman as often as you … mmmm … go down on me!" Her sentence ended with a shriek as he licked down the length of her seam, before he plunged his tongue into her. She swore as he began to fuck her, stroking her clit with his thumb.

He didn't stop until she cried out, her thighs shaking; she made soft little peeping sounds as he licked her clean. Wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, he sat up and said to her, "Most men are idiots, Molly. I know that you enjoy it, and I rather enjoy it myself." He leaned over her, smiling.

She giggled just before he kissed her. As the kiss deepened she undid his dressing gown, pushing it off of his shoulders. He kicked it away, hissing out a breath as she wrapped her hand around his length, circling the red tip of his cock with her thumb. Sherlock grabbed her hands and pulled her up into a seated position so that he could help her out of her own dressing gown.

"Mmmm … can we stay like this?" Molly questioned him as she straddled his waist, her knees on either side of his hips.

Sherlock growled out a yes as she took his cock in her hand once more, leaning back slightly as she placed her other hand on his ankle. She settled the gleaming tip of his cock at her entrance and sank down onto him, encasing his length in her wet heat. After putting her hand on his other ankle she began to move, her head thrown back, moaning wildly.

He watched her for several moments as she rode him with wild abandon, before he crossed his arms behind her and leaned forward, taking her breast between his lips. Her moans grew louder as he licked and bit at her tender skin.

"Oh Sherlock! Sherlock! Why do you feel so good inside of me?" she whimpered.

After flicking his tongue across her distended nipples he gave his answer, "Because we love each other, Molly, that's why."

"Yes! Yes!" she cried out, her nails digging slightly into his skin as her entire body convulsed.

She dropped down onto him, and as the curves of her arse made contact with his bollocks he groaned, grabbing tightly onto her hips. He continued to thrust up into her, as she made soft mewling noises. He hid his face in her neck, and as his cock pulsed deep inside of her he felt her walls continue to flutter and contract. Molly released her hold on his ankles and he pulled her close. She collapsed against him, her hot breath dancing across his ear.

They stayed like this, curled up together, until their heartbeats slowed. Sherlock had to help her off of him, her legs stiff from being in one position for so long. He gently massaged them as he helped her stretch out; peppering her skin with kisses as he slowly moved his mouth and hands up her body. By the time he was at level with her she pulled him down for a kiss.

The rest of the day they spent in bed except for a few quick trips to the loo, to the kitchen to make some tea and toast, and to later on order a takeaway.

With their belly's now full, and their lusts momentarily sated, Sherlock had her pinned beneath him and was covering her face in kisses, conveniently avoiding the one place that she wanted kissed most.

"Please Sherlock, please kiss me!"

He pressed his mouth to the tip of her nose, her cheek and her chin.

"Sherlock!"

He chuckled, moving his thumb over her red, swollen lips. "You haven't had enough?" he questioned, his eyes sparkling.

"Never!"

He kissed her and she hummed in delight, holding him tightly to her so that he couldn't easily pull away. Their tongues met and he moaned. After a few minutes they parted for breath, and Molly brushed her nose against his.

"Is it always going to be like this?" she asked him. "Where we can't seem to ever get enough of each other?"

He smiled down at her. "Yes."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's a very confident answer."

His smile widened. "It's because I am confident." He moved his hand down, brushing his thumb across the side of her breast. "Perhaps the amount of sex will lessen over time, as we become busier, moving back into the flow of our every day lives." He paused. "But I'll never want you any less." He gently kissed her, his hand moving back up to cup her cheek. "My body constantly aches to be connected with yours, to feel the press of your skin against mine. I'm confident that my desire for you will never fade."

Molly kissed him, holding him as close to her as she possibly could. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, the hard points of her nipples setting off sparks of pleasure as they rolled against his skin. Within seconds he slipped into her body, letting out a sigh of happiness.

He kept the movement of his thrusts slow and steady as he kissed and licked his way up and down her neck. She mewled and moaned beneath him, hooking her heels over the back of his thighs. When they came together, both of them were shocked by the suddenness of their orgasms. He kissed her sweetly, gently easing himself out of her before rolling off onto the side. After tucking her close against him, not minding in the slightest that their bodies were slick with sweat, he buried his nose in her hair.

"Sleep now," he mumbled, and she let out a noise of agreement.

* * *

It felt strange to Molly to be back at work in Barts. For the first hour of her shift she felt displaced, uncertain of her surroundings then a body came in and she instantly knew what to do. She was at long last back in her element.

When the autopsy was done, and she was performing the final stitches on the man's chest cavity, a deep voice suddenly spoke into her ear. She very nearly tore the stitches out of the skin, but managed not to, instead fixing a firm glare upon the culprit; her husband.

Sherlock smiled sheepishly at her. "I thought you heard me come in!"

She rolled her eyes, returning to her work. "I didn't, I was too engrossed in what I was doing."

"Hmmm … engrossed by the gross?"

She peered at him over her shoulder.

"Don't joke?" he offered.

"Bad pun," she quipped. She knotted the thread and cut it with her scissors before turning around to face Sherlock, snapping off her gloves. "Why are you here? A case?"

He nodded. "Yes. Lestrade is sending in a body. Male, late sixties." He stepped back so that she could toss her gloves into the bin.

"Murder? Suspicious death? Poison? Natural causes?" she questioned.

Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and kissed her deeply. "I love it when you talk about death."

She smiled up at him. "Not many people would find that sentence endearing. Luckily for you, I am one of those people."

He kissed her again. "It's a suspicious death, most likely poison." He continued to explain to her the circumstances of how and where the man was found as she put the body she had been autopsying back into cold storage.

"Why do you suspect poison?" she asked.

"There was no sign of a struggle, or any injuries on his body, just a faint pinprick of congealed blood on the side of his neck. I think the poison was injected with a syringe."

"Hmmm …," Molly thought silently for a moment. "The type of poison that was used is going to tell you who the culprit is, isn't it?"

He smiled. "I love you."

"I know."

He huffed, sticking out his bottom lip.

"Oh stop it you silly, you know that I love you too!" She stood up on her tip toes, planting a kiss on his lips.

"Oi you two! The honeymoon is over!" Lestrade declared as he strode into the morgue.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but bit back his retort when Molly side-eyed him.

"Hi Greg!" she greeted him, giving the Detective Inspector a hug.

"Have a good time in Italy?" he asked her.

"Oh yes, it was lovely, it was beautiful there." She discreetly kicked Sherlock's shin as he opened his mouth to add his own input.

Before anyone could say anything else the body was brought in and Molly began her work straight away. A short time later she had extracted what she needed.

"It will probably be an hour until the test results come through," she told Sherlock, Lestrade having excused himself, needing to make some calls.

"We could always have a bit of fun in your office!"

She rolled her eyes. "Sherlock no. Not on my first day back at work!"

He pouted.

"Go have a wank if you're so desperate for release."

"Mo-Molly!" he spluttered, making her giggle.

"Don't tell me that you've never …"

His cheeks burned pink.

"Sherlock? Really? You can suggest having a shag in my office, but get all embarrassed when I mention you masturbating?"  
His cheeks were now red. She giggled again.

"I have an idea."

He swallowed, but raised his eyebrows in interest as she stepped closer to him.

"How about we go to my office, and you show me how you do it?" she whispered huskily.

He swallowed again. "Molly you are positively filthy. I love it."

She bit down on her bottom lip, took his hand in hers and led him from the morgue. They entered her office and she closed and locked the door behind him. After shrugging off her lab coat and hanging it up, she turned back around.

"I'll be in my chair while you are sat on my desk," she told him.

She placed herself on her chair, spreading her legs slightly. He breathed in shakily and did as she had instructed, unbuttoning and pulling down the zip of his trousers.

"Hmmm … I think it's best if you take those off, don't want to get them dirty," she said.

"Christ Molly," he groaned as he stood and pushed his trousers down. He sat upon the edge of her desk, his erection jutting out from his hips.

Molly eyed it hungrily as it bobbed slightly. "Touch yourself Sherlock; show me what you do when I'm not with you."

He looked at her with half-opened eyes as he wrapped his hand around his length and slowly began to pump from the base to the tip. "This is what I do Molly, I hold on tight and imagine that I am buried deep inside of you." He rolled his hips in time with his movements.

Her mouth dropped open, feeling her knickers becoming soaked with her arousal as she continued to watch him. A low whimper escaped her as he circled the swollen red tip with his fingers before spreading the thick bead of pre-cum. He groaned as he quickened the pace of his hand.

"What are you imagining Sherlock? Are you thinking of my tight, wet pussy encasing your thick cock? My tits bouncing as you fill me again and again?"

"Molly!" he hissed out, his eyes squeezed shut. "Yes!" The pace of his hand on his cock did not lessen, as he moved his other hand to cup his bollocks so he could massage them with his fingers. "Fuck!" A shudder ran through him as he came, his semen covering his fingers. He took in a heavy breath as he released his cock, reaching out to grab a tissue.

"No." She stopped him. "Allow me."

She stood and he watched silently as she licked his hand clean, sucking in a finger, and then another. When he saw that she had slipped her hand into her trousers he bit out a curse. She moaned around his fingers as her own fingers made contact with her clit. With his hand now clean she moved her mouth to his fading erection, licking away the bit of come at the tip. It took only a few strokes of her clit for her to orgasm.

"Mmmm … thank you for that Sherlock," she murmured against his thigh, placing a gentle kiss upon the tip of his penis before straightening.

He pulled her to him, giving her a searing kiss.

"I think those test results should be ready." She made to move away from him, but he kept his hold on her and took up her hand. She eyed him curiously then gasped when he brought her finger, which was still wet with her juices, to his mouth. He sucked it clean, all the while smiling at her.

"It's frustrating how much you turn me on," she griped.

He released her finger, his smile growing bigger. "Welcome to my world."

She glanced down, her eyes widening when she saw that he was beginning to grow hard. "Sherlock," she whimpered, knowing that it was going to be impossible for her to say no. The ache between her legs could not be ignored.

He stood, lifting her up and placing her where he had just been sat, and undid the button and zip of her trousers. She raised herself off the desk so that he could pull them down, throwing them precariously to the side. Leaning back with her palms now flat on her desk, and her legs spread, it took him only two pumps of his hand for him to grow fully hard. He pushed her knickers to the side before he slid himself into her, a surge of please going straight to his bollocks as she cried out in triumph. She moved onto her back and he placed her legs onto his shoulders.

"Fuck me, fuck me!" she babbled as he began to pound into her, the entire desk shaking from his movements.

He leaned forward and nipped at her breasts through her blouse, groaning out her name as she tightened around him.

"Ahh! Ahh!"

He felt her come undone, and she took him with her. He managed one last thrust, before collapsing against her, holding himself up just barely with one hand against the desk.

"The things you do to me Molly," he groaned as their hips rolled together, sending a wave of glorious aftershocks through his body.

"Mmmm…" She bit down on his earlobe. "I think it's the things we do to each other."

He made a noise of agreement, moving onto shaky legs as he slipped out of her. After cleaning themselves up, and sharing a lazy kiss, they surfaced from her office and made their way to the lab.

* * *

Three days later Molly was alone in Baker Street, curled up in bed with a hot-water-bottle that was no longer hot and a tepid cup of tea on the bedside table.

"Stupid cramps!" she groaned, not wanting to get up but knowing she needed to.

Sherlock had gone out to get her 'essentials' that she had foolishly forgotten to stock up on, and she was impatiently waiting for him to come home. Cramps or no cramps, his presence never failed to make her feel better. Just as she was finally convincing herself to get up from the bed she heard the front door open and close, and footsteps on the stairs.

"Oh thank God!" she said as she collapsed back against the pillows.

A few moments later Sherlock entered the bedroom laden with bags.

"What did you do?" she asked with a giggle. "Buy their entire stock?"

He sniffed, settling the bags onto the edge of the bed. "No. I bought you a few things I thought you would enjoy eating."

"Oh?" She sat up.

"Chocolate digestives," he said as he held them up, before he pulled out a container with a flourish. "And Chocolate cake."

"Mmmm … you're such a good hubby!"

He made a face. "Don't call me that!"

"Awww, why not? My little hubby-wubby! Sherwock my hubby!"

He glared at her and she laughed.

"Perhaps I'll just eat all this chocolate cake myself."

"Don't you dare!"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "What do you need right now?"

She took out the water-bottle and handed it to him. "This to be heated up and … another cup of tea?" Please?

He took the water-bottle and leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He grabbed up the cold cup of tea and walked out of the room.

Molly picked up the package of digestives and opened them, slowly nibbling on one. He returned shortly with the hot-water-bottle and a fresh cup of steaming tea.

"Thank you," she said, sighing with relief as she placed the water-bottle across her stomach. "Where are you going?" she called after him as he left the room again.

"I need to get something!" he replied.

She let out another sigh, snuggling back against the pillows before taking up her cup of tea. She was mid-sip when he came back into the room with his laptop.  
"I have a surprise for you!" he said to her as he toed off his shoes, removed his suit jacket, and got onto the bed, stretching himself out beside her.

"Oh?" She took another sip of her tea.

He opened his laptop and turned it on, pulling out a USB flash drive from his pocket. "I stopped in at the NSY on my way home and Anderson gave me this. It's our wedding photos."

Molly let out a squeal delight. "Oh my God I'm so excited to see them!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but stayed mute as he plugged the USB into his laptop. He opened the folder and she gasped.

"Molly! You can hardly see them, they're tiny!"

She giggled, curling up closer against him. "Sorry," she mumbled around the edge of her cup.

He sighed, hesitating with the mouse pointer over the first picture. "Are you going to behave?"

She nipped at his arm. "Possibly."

He shook his head and clicked.

"Oh."

They stared silently at the screen for several moments. The photo was only of Molly, just as she was about to step outside into the garden. Sunlight danced across her a face, her eyes were sparkling.

"Just as beautiful as I remember," Sherlock murmured.

She sniffled and pressed her face into his arm, but looked up when she heard him click to the next picture. It was of her and Siger. Anderson had captured the exact moment when she had given him a kiss on his cheek.

"I had asked your father if you were out there waiting for me," she explained. "Asked if you hadn't run off, taken a case. He told me that you were there. And that you would never desert me."

Sherlock turned and pressed his lips to her forehead. "He's right."

She leaned her head back so that their mouths could meet. "I know."

They slowly made their way through the rest of the pictures, and Molly had to repeatedly fight back tears. Especially once they reached when they were exchanging their vows. When they came to the end she was sniffling.

"Well, Anderson is not quite the idiot I always thought him to be," Sherlock declared.

Molly gave his shoulder a nudge.

"What? Wasn't that a compliment?"

She sighed wearily.

He closed the laptop, settling it on the bedside table. "Do you want more tea?"

She shook her head. "No. But a nap would be nice." She shifted until she was lying down. "And of course it will only be nice if you join me."

He smiled, sliding down beside her. "Still warm enough?" he asked, gesturing to the water-bottle, and she nodded. He dipped his head forward, pressing his lips to her neck. "Should I put one of the wedding pictures on my blog?" he asked as he nibbled at her earlobe.

Molly let out a giggle before replying, "Only if you want to. And only if you allow Anderson to post one of the wedding pictures on his tumblr."

Sherlock growled into her skin, making her laugh. He bit down on her earlobe and she shrieked. She swatted at him with her hand as she tried to roll away from him. He chuckled, looping his arm around her, keeping her close; silencing her laughter with a kiss. She hummed into his mouth, kissing him back.

They parted a few moments later and she moved onto her side, pressing herself against him.

"I suppose one of the pictures when we're cutting the cake would be a good choice. The others are just a bit too … personal. I'd rather keep them just for us," he said.

Molly turned her head and placed a kiss upon his chest. "That's fine. I agree." She laid her head back down. "I want to pick a few and print them and put them in frames. Maybe I'll print them all and make a scrapbook. That could be fun!"

"Sounds horribly boring."

She gave his nipple a tweak. "You don't have to join in if you don't want to."

He rubbed the spot with his hand. "I most likely won't."

"No, you'll just grumble and pout that there's no more room on the kitchen table for your experiments."

"Humph. Go to sleep, Molly."

She laughed softly, situating the water-bottle more comfortably before closing her eyes.

* * *

The month of August flew by, and before they knew it September had arrived. The symposium where Molly would be speaking wasn't until the 13th, but they had decided to go Shanghai a week earlier to visit with Sherrinford and Meena. Sherlock would be meeting with his client on the Monday following the symposium, and he had hinted to Molly that he may take her to Japan before they returned home, knowing how much she had wanted to go back there.

"You're going to have to leave behind your beloved Belstaff," Molly said to him as she folded a shirt before placing it in her suitcase.

Sherlock frowned. "Must I?"

"Yes, unless you want to collapse from heat exhaustion. It will be in the upper 20's, possibly even in the 30's. Much warmer than here."

He let out a grunt of annoyance before he continued packing.

"So this artwork that was stolen, is it famous?" she asked, watching him as he folded his aubergine shirt in impeccable fashion.

"Yes. It was on display in the Palace Museum in Beijing. I've been told that their security is one of the best." He snorted. "Clearly not."

"And it was stolen when?"

"Early March." He moved to his open drawer, considering his socks.

"Oh those poor people! Sherlock I wish you had let me know about this, I would have told you to go."

He turned about, his hands on his hips. "Why? It's just an ancient scroll!"

"Sherlock," she admonished gently. "I know you have a greater appreciation for art than you are letting on. You yelled at a man shooting at you in the National Antiques Museum, to 'have a bit of respect'."

He gave a non-committal shrug. Molly shook her head as she walked over to him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I know that you told me it was for purely selfish reasons that you didn't originally take the case, that you didn't want to be away from me, and I understand that. But we're going to, I'm sure, eventually have to spend some time apart ... so tell me, is there something else? Some other reason?"

Sherlock sighed, slipping his arms around her waist. "It was ..." He paused, continuing to stare down at the floor. "I was afraid that you'd realize when we were apart that it was pointless to marry me. That-" He stopped again when Molly moved her arms to around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and he held onto her tightly.

She whispered his name softly, moving her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. "What happened to you, my darling? Why do you have this deep-rooted fear of me leaving you?"

He shook his head. "I want to tell you Molly, I do, and I will, just ... not now. Not yet."

She leaned back slightly and he at last looked at her; she had never seen such an expression of vulnerability in his eyes. She moved her hand to cup his face, gently brushing her thumb over the apple of his cheek. "Sherlock please believe me when I tell you that I have no intention of  _ever_ leaving you. I love you too much. To leave you, would break me."

He nodded. "I do believe you."

She laid her head on his chest, and they stood there silently for several minutes, holding each other.

"I'm sorry, Molly," he mumbled into her hair.

"Don't apologize Sherlock. You can tell me when the time is right, I'll wait. I understand."

"Molly," he placed his hands flat on her back.

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

She tilted her head back and their lips met. He gave her a searing kiss, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

"Don't say it Sherlock," she gasped out against his lips. "I know you're thinking it, and it's not true. You do Sherlock, you do deserve me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet I've got a few of your minds whirring... yes? no? Hopefully yes. I will be explaining Sherlock's 'issue' eventually ... but onto China first! :D
> 
> As I said before, this is most likely my last update of this fic for 2015 ... so ... see you in 2016! (I wouldn't be surprised if I do write some one-shots before the new year though.)
> 
> And of course, as always, please let me know what you think! I get so excited when I get reviews, they really make my day!


	41. You Do Deserve Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as if I am becoming so repetitive in always saying, sorry for the long wait!
> 
> And I truly am. It's just that real life never fails to get in the way :(
> 
> I'm hoping that chapter 42 won't be too far behind seeing as I already have bits and pieces of it written!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy ;)

 

 

* * *

_"_ _You do deserve me."_

Sherlock jolted awake, momentarily confused by his surroundings. His heart was racing and he felt strangely disoriented. He looked about; taking instant note of the fact that he was on a plane.

"Are you all right?"

He turned his head, his gaze meeting Molly's. Her eyes were filled with concern. After taking in a shaky breath he felt a wave of calm wash over him.

"I am now," he told her, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of her palm, closing his eyes.

"Bad dream?" she enquired.

"Mmm, no. Not exactly," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her skin. "Just my mind not allowing me to forget that there is something I need to do."

"Oh?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her, frowning slightly before placing her hand in his lap, still clasped in his, and leaned back into the chair. He glowered at the rows of seats in front of him. "Your husband is an idiot Molly."

"Is he now?"

Sherlock sighed. "Yes. He is."

Several minutes passed, the only sound the quiet whirr of the airplane.

"I am such a child."

Molly's hand squeezed his. "Sherlock, what is this about?"

He sighed again. "There's something I need to do. Something I should have done years ago, but I didn't. This has gone on long enough; I can't allow it to haunt me anymore." He turned his head and gave her lips a soft kiss. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to worry you."

She gently kissed him back.

"I want to speak with Sherrinford, before I tell you anything," he further explained.

"All right."

Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers. "I can only hope that he can provide me the clarity I seek."

"I hope so too. In the meanwhile, I'll comfort you in the best way that I know how." Her other hand which had been resting against his chest, slowly slid downwards, stopping when it came to the top of his trousers.

"Molly…," he grumbled, in a warning tone.

She chuckled softly, toying with the button.

"This flight can't end soon enough," he bit out.

"My thoughts exactly." She pulled her hand away, before giving his lips another gentle kiss. "We should be landing soon."

He continued to grumble but his eyes were twinkling.

"You're happy that we won't be seeing your brother and Meena until tomorrow aren't you?" she asked with a grin.

He merely replied with a wolfish smile.

Fifteen minutes later they were making their final descent. As they stepped off the plane, Sherlock took her hand in his and with the other he gestured towards the window where the city was spread out before them. He turned to her and with a smile he said, "Huānyíng dào zhōngguó!"

Molly sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Of course you would know how to speak Mandarin."

The git had the audacity to stick his tongue out at her, but quickly resolved his cheekiness with a kiss to her temple.

"It would be foolish to enter into a foreign country without knowing the language at least somewhat!" he said to her, before tilting his head to place a peck below her ear.

Once they made their way through customs, and got their luggage, Sherlock was practically twitching to get Molly alone. She only giggled at his predicament, which made him narrow his eyes at her. As soon as they acquired a cab to take them to their hotel he pulled her practically onto his lap.

The entirety of their drive he spent mouthing at her neck, his hand beneath her blouse, stroking at the skin of her back. Molly hummed delightedly, but was careful not to touch him, she wasn't about to let him shag her in a strange car, in a foreign country.

Upon arriving outside their hotel Molly's mouth dropped open as she stared up at it, amazed by its height. Sherlock had taken her hand and was giving her a gentle tug.

"Always so enthralled," he noted with a chuckle.

"I can't help it. The places you bring me to are beautiful!"

Her mouth dropped open once more as they walked inside. The lobby was large, a colourful mosaic covering the walls. Sherlock checked them in, speaking the language impeccably, leaving her only to sigh with envy; never having the knack for being able to easily retain and speak another language.

Sherlock held his hand out to her when he was finished and they made their way towards the lifts. As soon as the doors slid closed, he slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her hungrily.

"You spoil me Sherlock, you really do," she said breathlessly against his lips.

He smiled. "Only the best for you." He kissed her again.

The lift reached their floor and they stepped out and walked down the hall to their room.

"Oh my God, this view is amazing!" Molly exclaimed as she walked over to the large, floor to ceiling glass window that looked out over the city and the Huangpu River.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, closing the door behind him. "I must admit though, the only view I want to see right now is you naked in that bed." He came up behind her, slipping his arms back around her waist. "I suppose I could take you up against that window … eventually. You'd like that, wouldn't you? The hard points of your nipples, pressed into the glass, as my cock fills you up from behind."

"God Sherlock!"

"I can't help it," he growled out, pulling her close up against him. "I have an insatiable appetite for you." He nipped at her pulse point, suckling the skin into his mouth.

"Our bags haven't arrived yet! You need to wait!" she squealed out.

He made a noise of disappointment, but released her just as there was a knock at the door. She slipped into the bathroom as their luggage was brought in, to freshen herself up a bit. If she could have her way she would have gladly taken a shower first, but she knew that Sherlock would protest. They would shower later, most likely together.

She heard the door close just as she stepped out of the loo, and saw that he was sat upon the bed, waiting for her. After slipping off her shoes she walked over to him. He held his arms out to her and she stepped into his embrace.

"Still in need of comfort?" she asked him, a cheeky glint in her eyes.

"I always need _your_ comfort, Molly," he replied, pulling her down to him for a hungry kiss.

They slowly removed each others clothing, and once they were both naked she gave him a nudge.

"Lie down," she instructed softly.

He did so, and she proceeded to smooth her hands over him, giving his muscles a gentle massage as she followed her hands with her lips, kissing and licking her way, down and across his body. By the time she was finished, he was fully erect, his cock practically pulsing. She knew that if she took him into her mouth he would surely come within moments.

"Mmmmm … I think I know exactly what you need!" She turned herself about, so that her back was now to him and straddled his hips.

Sherlock hissed in a breath as she grasped onto his cock and positioned him at her entrance, before she sank down onto him. "Molly!" he groaned, loving the view of her milky-white arse nestled against his hips. He swore as she began to slowly ride him, he cupped her bum in his hands, squeezing her supple flesh. Her soft moans and whimpers were driving him positively wild, as well as the fact that each time she rose up, she nearly slipped his cock out of her before dropping back down and sheathing him fully in her wet heat.

He allowed her to continue this slow pace for several minutes, until he suddenly pushed himself up to a seated position, making her gasp. He wrapped his arm around her torso, giving her hips a nudge forward. She moaned and raised herself up onto her knees. He followed her until they were both kneeling, his cock still inside of her. He held her close against his chest as he began to rock his hips back and forth, slowly pumping his cock in and out of her.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she moaned, reaching back to clasp onto him.

He moved one hand down the smooth expanse of her belly until he reached her clit, stroking it in tiny circles. She cried out, her nails digging into his side as he brought his other hand up to her breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingertips.

"Oh fuck Sherlock! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"

He quickened his pace, thrusting up into her as deeply as he could.

"Sher-er-oh! Ahhh!" Her mouth was open wide, her eyes squeezed shut.

She came silently, a sure-sign that it was a rather intense orgasm. He moved his hand from her clit, cupping her other breast as he thrust towards his own climax, burying his face in her neck.

He gave a few slow pumps before slipping out of her and pulling her down with him, collapsing onto the bed. Molly let out a satisfied hum before moving so that she was facing him. She brushed back his damp curls from his forehead and sat up slightly to press a kiss there. Her breasts dangled over him, and he suckled her nipple between his lips.

She gasped, followed by a low whine as he bit down. His hands were holding her in place as he released one nipple and moved to the other. He did this for several moments, switching from breast to breast until her arms began to shake. Once he had rolled her onto her back, he curled up close against her, his arm draped across her.

"Thank you Molly," he mumbled as he nosed her shoulder.

"Mmmm … and thank you!"

They dozed for a little while; their bodies sated and weary, before they got up to shower. A short time later they were lying beneath the sheets, waiting for the arrival of their room service that Sherlock had ordered.

"Beautiful sunset," Molly stated, as she looked out the window.

Sherlock hummed absent-mindedly, far-too-focused on nuzzling at her cheek to even think about looking at their view. When there was a knock at their door he groaned in annoyance, making Molly laugh.

"You're just as hungry as I am, you silly." She gave him a push towards the edge of the bed.

He got up, yanking on a dressing gown as he muttered beneath his breath, before he moved towards the door. Molly slipped off of the bed, pulling on her own dressing gown then settled herself in one of the chairs that was nearby the window. She had her mobile and was intending on taking some pictures of their view to send to Mary.

The food was brought in, and the man who had brought it promptly left. Molly's stomach growled as the scent of the food reached her. She quickly snapped a few pictures, before putting her phone down and turning about just as Sherlock held out a glass of wine. She smiled up at him as she took it.

"Shall I make you a plate?" he asked her.

"Oh? Food and drink service? Oh my!"

He gave a soft snort, before leaning down and kissing her. Molly sipped her wine as he made them both a plate. When he returned to her, he gave a slight jerk of his chin. She giggled and slid over, making room for him. The chair was quite big and easily fit the two of them. Molly draped her legs over Sherlock's lap and they quietly tucked into their food.

When they were finished she placed their empty plates on the window ledge and continued to sip at her wine, curled up against his chest. The sun had fully set now, and all they could see were the lights from the city and the boats on the river. As Molly's eyes started to droop, Sherlock took her glass and set it down. She let out a soft noise, snuggling further up against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening his hold on her.

"I think we should return to the bed," he told her in a low tone.

"Mmm ... but that requires walking."

He shifted her body so that he could stand and keep her in his arms. "It does for me, not for you."

She giggled and locked her arms about his neck, nuzzling at his throat as he walked towards the bed. He settled her down onto the mattress, quickly undoing the knot of her dressing gown. They slipped beneath the sheet and blanket, curling up skin to skin.

Molly let out another happy sigh before saying, "Meena is taking me on a tour of the city tomorrow, which leaves you and Sherrinford plenty of alone time."

"Wonderful."

She shifted slightly, momentarily distracting him by the sensation of her nipples brushing up against his chest. "Don't just sit and glower at each other, or go into your Mind Palace. Talk with him, take care of whatever this is that is looming over you like a great, big, black cloud."

"Yes mummy."

She opened her eyes and propped up her chin. "You know what I mean."

He made a noise of agreement. She rolled her eyes hopelessly and laid her head back down.

* * *

Molly was in the bathroom, finishing plaiting her hair when her text tone went off. "Can you check to see who that's from?" she called out to Sherlock. She could just make out his annoyed sigh.

"It's from Meena. Their downstairs in the lobby," he replied.

"Oh yay! I just need to put my shoes on and I'll be ready to go," she said as she walked into the bedroom. "Can you text her back that we'll be right down?"

She could practically here his eye-roll. Molly just shook her head, ignoring him, having to plenty of times send a text for him, or retrieve his phone from his own trouser pocket! She finished tying her trainers and stood.

"Ready?" she asked him.

"Ready," he responded, holding her phone out to her.

"Thank you." She stood up on tiptoe and gave him a kiss.

He looped his arm about her waist as they exited their hotel room. They got into the lift and the moment they reached the lobby, Molly rushed out looking for her friend.

"MEENA!"

"MOLLY!"

The two women were practically squealing with excitement as they rushed into each other's arms. Sherlock and Sherrinford approached each other at a mellower pace, caught each other's gaze and sighed, both shaking their heads.

It had been previously arranged that Sherrinford and Meena would drive to the hotel. Meena and Molly would go off on their city adventure, and Sherrinford would drive Sherlock back to his flat.

Once hellos and hugs had been exchanged, and the two women had calmed a bit, they parted ways. Molly gave Sherlock an encouraging look, hoping that he would speak with his brother. Meena called out that they would pick up dinner on their way back.

"I'm so excited to show you the city! Well, some of it at least, it's quite massive!" Meena said to her as they walked out of the hotel to hail a cab.

Molly couldn't stop smiling. "It feels so surreal to be here. I don't think it's quite hit me yet. I never imagined I'd come to China, and I'm just so happy to be here!"

They shared in another hug.

"So where are you taking me first?" Molly asked as they settled into the cab.

Meena held up her hand for a moment before leaning forward and speaking with the driver in rapid pace Mandarin. Molly blinked in amazement. When Meena was finished she leaned back and turned to her.

"I thought Yuyuan Garden would be a good place to go. It's beautiful, over four hundred years old. There are a lot of buildings with incredible architecture. I hope you brought a camera, because your phone will fill up with pictures really fast."

"Oh I did! Sherlock bought me one shortly before we came here," Molly said with a smile.

"Good. After that we'll go to Nanjing Road, there's a lot of shops there and we can have some lunch as well. But what I am really looking forward to you seeing is the Jade Buddha Temple. I may not be Buddhist, but I feel this incredible sense of peace whenever I go there. I really hope you are going to like it."

Molly was practically wiggling with excitement. "What about the hospital you work in and the university where Sherrinford works, are they nearby?"

Meena nodded her head from side to side. "They're in opposite directions and both a bit out of the way from where we'll be going. Perhaps tomorrow, I know Sherrinford would like to show Sherlock the university."

Molly turned to look out the window. "Ok. The symposium I'm speaking at, that's in your hospital, isn't it?" She turned back to look at her friend.

Meena was smiling. "Yes it is, the Huashan Hospital. And it's actually thanks to Sherrinford that I work there. That hospital is affiliated with his university, Fudan."

Molly's eyes widened. "Really? Oh I had no idea! That's wonderful!"

For the rest of the drive they discussed the differences and similarities between Huashan and Barts. When they arrived at Yuyuan Garden, Meena paid the driver and they got out. Once Meena paid their entry fee, they walked into the garden.

Molly's mouth dropped open as she looked about her in awe. Just as Meena had said, the place was beautiful. Molly dug her hand into her bag, pulling out her camera. Meena laughed as Molly began to take pictures. They slowly strolled throughout the place, sometimes hindered by hordes of tourists, as Meena told her the history; just as Sherrinford had told her when he first brought her there.

By the time they were finished they were both feeling hungry. So they got another cab to take them to Nanjing Road. Once again, Molly listened in wonder as Meena rattled off the address of where they wanted to go.

"I must say, I'm quite impressed with how well you speak the language!" Molly said to her.

Meena smiled. "Thanks. It definitely helps to be constantly surrounded by it, and to always have someone to converse with. Plus, Sherrinford is an excellent teacher, and gives lovely rewards," she said with a cheeky grin.

"MEENA!" Molly gave her friend's arm a little swat, before the pair of them dissolved into giggles.

Meena took her to a restaurant called Yang's Fried Dumplings. Molly's mouth started watering the moment they walked inside, it smelled so delicious! Meena told her to get a table while she ordered for them.

They ate pork and shrimp fried dumplings, and Molly was certain that she had never eaten anything that tasted so incredible. By the time they were finished she felt ridiculously full, but she couldn't stop herself.

Meena leaned back into her seat and patted her stomach. "I'm thankful Sherrinford and I don't live too close to here, otherwise I'd come everyday. The dumplings just taste so good!"

After letting their meal settle for a minute they left the restaurant and proceeded to make their way down the street. Meena took her into all of her favourite shops. Laden with a few purchases and seeing as it was beginning to get a bit later in the day, they decided to make their way to the Jade Buddha Temple.

"You're not too tired are you?" Meena asked her. "Jet lag can be a real bitch."

"I'm actually fine at the moment. I really want to see this temple," Molly replied.

"Ok. But please tell me when you do get tired and we can head back. We shouldn't wait too long anyway, otherwise traffic will be hell!"

They got into a cab and Molly checked her phone to see if she had any texts from Sherlock. She didn't. Biting down on her bottom lip, she frowned.

"Something wrong?" Meena asked, noticing her friend's expression.

"No. Not really, I just haven't heard from Sherlock, that's all."

Meena tilted her head to the side. "How have things been with you two? Still in the honeymoon stage?"

Molly giggled. "It feels like it, yeah. There's just something that has been looming over him, and I don't know what it is. He says that he wants to tell me, but he can't, not yet."

"And it has to do with Sherrinford?"

Molly nodded. "Yes. I have a feeling that it has something to do with the reason as to why they didn't speak for so many years."

"Oh. Well, let's hope that whatever it is they'll be able to talk about it and absolve it today."

Molly nodded again. "Yeah. I really hope so."

They arrived at the temple, and as they walked inside Molly felt a wave of tranquility wash over her. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, incense flooding her nostrils. When she opened her eyes, after a few moments, she was certain that all would be ok. Meena smiled at her and held out her hand. Molly took it, and together they walked through the temple.

Molly was positive she had never seen such ornate beauty. Meena quietly murmured to her the history of the temple as they walked around looking at the statues. By the time they left, the two of them felt relaxed and at peace with the world; until both their stomachs growled.

After hailing a cab Meena told her that they would be stopping to pick up dinner before they made their way back to hers and Sherrinford's flat. She brought Molly to a tiny little hole in the wall takeaway.

"Wait until you eat this," Meena said to her. "You'll never want to order Chinese takeaway in London ever again!"

By the time they got back both of them were desperate to eat.

"My stomach won't stop making noises! This food smells so delicious!" Molly exclaimed as they entered Meena and Sherrinford's building.

Meena led her towards the lifts. "I know, mine too. Thank goodness we stopped to have a bite to eat earlier or I would have been faint from hunger by now."

The lift doors opened onto her floor and they stepped out.

"So, do you think Sherlock managed to talk with Sherrinford about whatever it is that he needed to talk to him about?" Meena asked as she searched through her bag for her keys.

Molly frowned slightly. "I hope so. I really do. I've never seen him like this before."

Meena pulled out her keys with a cry of achievement and unlocked the door. "Sherry, we're back!" she called out.

Molly followed her in; rolling her eyes at the nickname Meena had given her husband. Sherlock would be appalled if Molly ever even considered doing such a thing with him. She fought back a giggle at such an idea.

"Hi darling," Sherrinford said before he greeted his wife with a kiss. "Did you two have fun?"

"Oh yes!" Molly answered brightly. "It's a beautiful city, so much to see!"

Sherrinford smiled, stepping aside so that Meena could bring the bags of food into the kitchen. "Good, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Where's Sherlock?" Molly asked.

Sherrinford's smile faded slightly. "He's in there," he nodded towards their sitting room. "He's doing his - ahh - mind thing; has been for the passed two hours. I have a feeling he'll be like that for a while."

"I'm used to it. So you talked then?" Molly said as she put down her bag.

Sherrinford nodded. "Yeah. I think though, what I told him might have given him a bit of a shock."

"Oh. Well, I am glad you two finally spoke. I've been so worried about him."

Sherrinford followed his wife into the kitchen as Molly went to check on Sherlock. He was sat in a chair, his fingers steepled, and his eyes closed. Without speaking a word to him she leant forward and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek. He didn't move, nor open his eyes. She left him to it, and followed the noises of Meena and Sherrinford in the kitchen. The table was already set and they were busy dishing out the food. Meena had poured Molly a glass of wine.

"I'll give you a tour of the flat tomorrow, its better in the daylight." Meena said.

"Ok. That would be great. So ahh, was it a good shock, or a bad shock?" Molly asked; once they had settled down to eat.

Sherrinford slowly chewed his food, swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin before answering. "I think perhaps a bit of both. I'm sorry that I can't let you know you more, but it's really not my story to tell."

Molly waved her fork dismissively. "Don't apologize. It's perfectly all right. And I respect you for being able to keep it to yourself."

He frowned slightly. "I just hope that he will tell you. He keeps a lot to himself, especially anything that has to do with his past, which he claims to have deleted. Utter shite that is."

Molly took a sip of her wine, mulling over all that Sherrinford had just said. She had tried her hardest to keep any form of worry at bay, but now it was starting to flood through her. What _had_ happened to him?

Throughout the rest of the meal they spoke about much lighter topics, and once they were finished and the dishes had been taken care, Molly went to go check on Sherlock once more. He was in the exact same position she had left him in. Returning to the kitchen she announced that she thought it would be best to go back to the hotel for the evening. They had previously made plans to get together again the following day, and Molly assured them that they were still doable.

"How are you going to make him snap out of it?" Meena asked as she followed her into the sitting room.

"Oh don't worry; I have a few tricks up my sleeve. He's done this more than once in my lab, at the end of my shift." Molly ended her sentence with a roll of her eyes. She walked over to him, leaned down and whispered into his ear. A few moments passed before his eyes slowly blinked open. She straightened and smiled at him when their gaze met. "Come on." She held her hand out to him and he stood.

"How did you do that?" Meena murmured to her, as Sherlock put on his suit jacket.

Molly shook her head. "Ahh! Ahh! A magician never shares her secrets."

Meena rolled her eyes good-naturedly, before giving her friend a hug. After giving Sherrinford a hug, Molly took Sherlock's hand and led him from the flat. He was silent the entire drive back to the hotel and this didn't surprise her in the slightest. Upon entering their room he settled himself down into the large chair nearby the window. She left him to it, taking a bath before putting on her pyjamas. She then decided to take advantage of this bit of time to herself and catch up on her reading. A few hours later she had fallen asleep mid-chapter, her glasses still perched on her nose.

The next morning Molly rolled onto her side, before slowly opening her eyes. She reached up and wiped away the sleep, noticing for the first time that Sherlock was beside her, awake, and was looking at her. He was frowning slightly. After putting his arm around her waist he tugged her closer and buried his face in her neck, breathing in deeply.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

She pressed herself against him, smoothing her hand over his back. "It's all right Sherlock. I know how you work."

His arm tightened around her before he lifted his head and looked at her. "I love you. I really do." He kissed her before she could respond. He nudged her onto her back, kneeling over her. "Allow me," he murmured as his lips began to move down her throat, "to make it up to you." He nibbled at her clavicle and she let out a hum of delight as he covered her breasts with his hands, pinching her clothed nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He sat up, pulling her up with him, and eased off her t-shirt. Dropping his head down, he mouthed at her breast, flicking his tongue across her pebbled bud. Molly moaned, burying her hands in his hair. He covered her other breast with his hand, massaging it tenderly. After a few moments he switched breasts, and by the time he moved away, she was a panting, aching mess.

"Want you," she whimpered.

He kissed her sweetly as they scrabbled to remove each others clothing. Once they were naked Sherlock eased her down onto the mattress and moved them both onto their sides, facing each other. He slipped his hand beneath her thigh, raised her leg and settled it down onto his hip. Molly's lips parted, her mouth forming a small 'o' as he eased himself into her, their gaze locked. He moved his hand over her hip to the small of her back, pressing her self to him as he began to move.

His name left her lips on a breathless whisper, before he took her mouth with a deep kiss. The hard points of her nipples brushed against his chest as they slowly rocked and moved together. She clutched at him, her short nails leaving faint crescent moons in his skin. They were now cheek to cheek, moaning softly together. Sherlock tilted his hips forward, just enough so that his pelvis brushed against Molly's clit.

"Ahhh!" her quiet cry ended with a whimper of his name.

He continued to slowly move in her, pressing his lips to her neck. After only three more thrusts, and with a shudder and a sigh, he came inside of her. They held onto each other, hands wandering.

A short while later he rolled her onto her back, cupping her face with his hand before kissing her sweetly.

She returned the kiss, smiling up at him before saying, "We should shower and have some breakfast. We're supposed to be at Sherrinford and Meena's at one o'clock!"

Sherlock made a face as he dropped his head down. "Do we have to?" he questioned, sounding like a little boy.

Molly giggled. "Yes. We do. I did not fly all the way to China just to lay in bed with you. We do plenty of that when we're at home!" She could practically feel his pout.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Is that all right? Will you be ok? Are things between you and Sherrinford ..." Her voice trailed off.

Sherlock tilted his head, placing his cheek against her shoulder. "It's perfectly all right. Sherrinford and I, we've come to an understanding. He's far more innocent than I thought he was. It is to someone else that I must place the blame."

Molly studied him quietly.

He frowned. "I know, I'm being cryptic. It's just … I'm still not ready to tell you. There are a few things I need to work out in my mind, come to terms with."

She reached up, gently stroking his cheek. "Ok. But please, don't feel obligated to tell me."

He covered her hand with his, quirking an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it bother you if I didn't?"

"Yes," she replied. "But it would bother me more if you told me only because you felt that you needed to. Not because you wanted to."

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "I do want to though."

* * *

Meena had just finished giving Molly a tour of the flat, which didn't take long, due to its rather small size. They had returned to the kitchen, settling down at that table.

"I love how you have the place decorated, very homey," Molly said to her.

Meena smiled proudly. "Thanks. You should have seen what it looked like before I moved in!" She rolled her eyes. "Sherrin doesn't have a knack for interior decorating whatsoever. The walls were barren, bland colours everywhere. But he loves what I've done; he told me that he _wants_ to be home now."

Molly smirked. "You sure it's not the company?"

Meena blushed faintly. "That might be part of it." She took a sip of water before saying, "You must have been rather shocked when you found out about us getting married."

Molly gave a nonchalant shrug. "Not entirely. I know you, I know how you are. You don't love lightly. I knew that you wouldn't have married him if you didn't feel a strong connection. And it's clear that he loves you just as much. Sometimes love doesn't need years to evolve sometimes it just happens quickly. I hope that you two will continue to be very happy together."

Meena smiled. "Thank you. And I know I asked the other day, but you and Sherlock, how are the two of you?"

"Very well. I don't think I've ever been so happy. And Sherlock, he, he's changed so much. It amazes me how far we've both come. I don't know what I would do without him."

Meena covered Molly's hand with her own. "I think he could say the same." She glanced down at her watch. "We should probably get going!"

Molly stood. "I'll go see what they're up to." She left the kitchen and made her way towards the sitting room.

Muffled voices reached her ears as she approached the door. It was open, but not fully. They appeared to be having a slightly heated discussion, but not exactly an argument. They were both stood, facing each other. Sherlock's face was a stone, expressionless. Suddenly Sherrinford stopped speaking and pulled his brother into his embrace. Moments passed where Sherlock didn't move, and Molly watched with bated breath. She could see the crumbling of his resolve, his expression softening as he brought his arms up and returned the hug, holding onto his brother tightly. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling up in her eyes. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she should not have been witness to such a private moment. Stepping away she moved silently down the hall, before blinking back her tears and taking in a few breaths.

A sudden sneeze came upon her, a perfect warning to the two men of her approach. She moved back down the hall, towards the room. Upon entering she found them both now sat in chairs, neither one of them appearing to be upset.

"Meena said we should get going," she answered their silent enquiry.

"What time is it?" Sherrinford asked.

"Nearly two."

"Already? Damn, yes we should." He got up and walked from the room.

Molly slowly approached Sherlock.

"I'm fine Molly. Stop worrying."

She smiled slightly. "I'm your wife; I'm always going to worry."

He smiled widely, tilting his head back to look up at her. "I love it when you say that."

"What? That I'm your wife?"

He reached out and took her hand in his. "Yes."

"So much for abhorring titles."

"Shut up," he grumbled, tugging her down onto his lap."

Molly giggled, before sighing against his lips when he kissed her.

"Oi! Save the snogging for later when you two are alone!" Meena exclaimed as she walked into the room.

Sherlock glowered at her. "You may be married to my brother, but that doesn't mean that you-"

Molly clamped her hand over his mouth; stopping him from saying Lord knows what. A few minutes later they were in Sherrinford's car on their way to the university where he worked, as he drove he brought to their attention different points of interest. Sherlock appeared to be just as fascinated as Molly was.

They spent over an hour touring the campus grounds, he even showed them some of the equations he was currently working on them. Molly had quite a knack for math, but found herself overwhelmed by the multitude of letters and numbers. Sherlock too seem baffled, though he tried his hardest to hide it. But Molly could see that he was proud of his brother.

Originally they had intended to go to the hospital where Meena worked and where Molly would be speaking in a few days time, but an accident a little ways up the road made it a futile attempt. Instead they returned to the flat for a home-cooked meal.

"For most of the time we partake of the Asian cuisine, but every now and then we try to cook something different. Usually either an English dish or Italian. Something fairly simple," Sherrinford explained to them.

There was a large packet leaning against the doorframe to their flat. He grabbed it before unlocking the door.

"It's addressed to you," he said as he handed it to Sherlock once they had walked inside.

"Ahhh, must be from Mycroft."

Molly gave him a curious look.

"Case notes," he explained. "Information about the missing painting and the museum it was stolen from. I asked him to gather up what he could. Excellent." He walked away from them, towards the sitting room.

Molly rolled her eyes, knowing that he would be unaware of the world for several hours now. "Would you like some help with dinner?" she asked, following Meena and Sherrinford further into the flat.

Once the food was cooked (fresh tomato sauce with pasta), the table was set, and the wine was poured, Molly went to go check on Sherlock. He was sat on the floor, the papers from the packet strewn out around him.

"It's time to eat, everything's ready," she announced.

"Mmmm. Not hungry."

"Sherlock, even Consulting Detective's need to eat from time to time."

He turned to look at her, his mouth opening.

"Nope, you can't use the excuse that you are on a case, because you're not. Not yet."

He pouted.

"Come on!" She held out her hand.

With a resigned sigh, he stood and laced his fingers with hers.

"Thank you."

He smiled, before it turned to a scowl as his stomach grumbled noisily, and Molly laughed.

"See? You are hungry!"

* * *

The rest of the week flew by quickly, interspersed across the days with several hours spent in bed (Molly didn't protest), when Meena and Sherrinford's work interfered with doing anything together. At first Molly had insisted that Sherlock was perfectly capable of taking her throughout the city and allowing her to see the sights. But more often than not, both his hands and mouth convinced her that staying in their hotel room was a better idea. She may have managed to grumble out "cheeky git" before kissing him senseless.

On Saturday they went on a river cruise. Sherlock protested for the first five minutes but then his mouth snapped shut when he saw how much Molly was enjoying herself. But on Sunday they had a bit of a difficulty in fixing on what to do. Molly had wanted Sherlock to choose, but his look of disinterest allowed her to decide otherwise. The man was an absolute horrible tourist!

Meena tried her best to help, bringing up websites of suggestions.

"Oh, I know!" Molly exclaimed suddenly. "I want to go to the zoo!"

Sherlock sneered. "Why? All you need to do is go to Mycroft's office and watch him 'work'. Just like watching a baboon!" He made air quotes as he spoke the word work.

"SHERLOCK!" Molly shrieked as Sherrinford snorted out a laugh. "You're absolutely terrible."

Sherlock appeared to be thinking. "You're right. He's more like an orangutan."

She rolled her eyes, before swatting at his arm with the back of her hand. He chuckled and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close up against him.

She fixed upon him a determined glare. "Well, seeing as we're in China I can't go and watch your brother in his office. So, whether you like it or not, we're going to the zoo!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm cruel in not explaining what has Sherlock so upset. All will be revealed in either 42 or 43!
> 
> Also, I've never been to China, so apologies if anything is in accurate. I tried to do as much research as I could :)
> 
> Please leave a review, I love them so much and they are quite honestly the fuel to my wanting-to-write fire!


	42. We're Going to the Zoo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the incredibly long wait for this chapter!
> 
> I feel horrible, I truly do.
> 
> There was quite a bit of a struggle with this chapter, especially with the case in China, and that is most certainly part of the reason for the long wait.
> 
> I also had gotten busy with writing and finishing up my other fic 'A Study in Pregnancy'!
> 
> But at long last this chapter is here, WOO HOO!
> 
> And well ... it's quite long, but perhaps that makes up for the wait for it? I hope so.
> 
> And I truly do hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Also, please note, I have NEVER been to China. So apologies if I got anything wrong with the culture, etc. I mean no disrespect.
> 
> Enough of my waffling, ONTO THE CHAPTER!

* * *

 

"We're going to the zoo!" Molly announced, and off they went.

Sherlock, Sherrinford, Molly and Meena all got into Sherrinford's car and to the zoo he drove. Sherlock sat beside Molly in the back, a large pout upon his face. It wasn't that he didn't admire animals; he did find them to be fascinating mainly because they were far more intelligent than humans, but he did not think spending several hours wandering about a place staring at them in enclosed quarters to be very thrilling. He knew that he would be BORED!

Molly nudged his shoulder. "Cheer up Sherlock. You can't always do what you want; it's just part of life. We all have to deal with it."

He rolled his eyes and continued to pout. She shook her head before leaning closer to him and whispering into his ear.

"If you behave today, I'll let you fuck me from behind when we get back to the hotel. Just the way you like it, bent over the edge of the bed."

He swore beneath his breath. "Damnit Molly," he growled out.

She straightened, smirking cheekily. He glowered at her, his lips set in a thin, straight line; his pout was now gone, replaced by a determined glint in his eyes.

They arrived at the zoo a few minutes later, and the first animal that Molly wanted to go see was the pandas. After studying the map for a moment, Sherrinford led the way towards where they were kept. Molly kept Sherlock's hand clasped in hers, so that he wouldn't be able to wander off. The man could very much so be like a toddler at times.

For the next hour they wandered about the zoo, looking at the array of animals as Molly non-stop took pictures. And she even managed to sneak in a few of Sherlock.

Just as they were considering getting something to drink, a cry of distress caught Molly's ear. She spun about, looking for the source for it sounded like an upset child. After looking around she spotted a small Chinese girl, tears streaming down her face, all alone.

Molly placed her hand on Meena's arm to get her friends attention. "Meena, that little girl looks lost! She's calling for her mother, isn't she?"

Meena followed Molly's gaze, and listened. "Yes she is."

"I think we should help her."

"Molly, I'm not so sure. We should probably go tell one of the security guards."

A loud 'hmph' erupted behind them. They both turned and looked at Sherlock.

"The guards are more than likely to be useless, and take twice the amount of time. All it will take is merely asking the little girl to retrace her steps. She's certain to find her mother that way."

"Sherlock, she's a child. She's not going to remember where she went!" Meena exclaimed.

He held himself back from rolling his eyes. "If you ask her what animals she saw, she will!"

"But her mother might have already gone to security!" Molly noted.

"I'll go and let them know we found a lost little girl," Sherrinford offered, before he walked off.

Molly returned her attention to the girl. No one seemed to be paying much notice of her, even though she was crying and alone. Meena cautiously approached her, squatting down to her level. Molly watched as she spoke with her, the little girl rubbing her eyes. After a few moments Meena gestured towards them, and the little girl stared at them with wide, tear-filled eyes. Meena stood and the little girl followed her as she walked back over to them.

"This is Li Mei, she got lost thinking she was following her mother, but she was actually following a stranger. I asked her the animals she remembers seeing, and she told me the elephants, the white tigers, and the bears."

"The white tigers were most likely the last animal she saw with her mother," Sherlock stated." We'll take her there first; her mother should be re-tracing her steps; if she has any sense."

Molly gave his arm a push. "Behave!"

He bit back the last of his comments, remembering the proposition she had made for this evening.

"Should we wait for Sherrinford?" Meena questioned.

"No. We don't know how long he'll take, and that would put us at risk of missing her mother," Sherlock replied.

Meena squatted back down by the girl and explained to her that they were going to take her back to the white tigers to help her find her mother. The little girl dried her eyes and nodded her head in agreement. She took Meena's hand and they made their way to the tigers.

"Do you see her?" Meena questioned her in Mandarin. "Can you remember what she was wearing?"

The little girl shook her head, but then began to reply in rapid Mandarin.

"She was wearing a light blue blouse and white trousers," Meena told them.

They each looked about, seeing no-one that matched this description.

"The elephants then," Sherlock said. "We don't know exactly how long she's been separated from her mother, but I'd say at least thirty minutes."

They made their way to where the elephants were. Suddenly the girl let out a shriek, released Meena's hand and went running towards a very distressed looking woman.

"Oh thank God!" Molly sighed with a sigh of relief as the woman took her daughter into her arms, holding her close.

When the little girl was released she gestured towards the three, clearly explaining to her mother that they had helped her. The woman eyed them warily, before approaching. She thanked them in Mandarin, the little girl smiling up at the trio. Just then two security guards came up to them with Sherrinford.

"Found the mother?" he asked.

"Of course," Sherlock replied.

Sherrinford rolled his eyes at his brother's cockiness, but said nothing.

"Well, I think I'm done for the day," Molly announced. "This heat is getting to me. I need water!" She looped her arm with Sherlock's.

They left the zoo and had dinner at a nearby restaurant. Afterwards they parted ways, but not before saying their goodbyes. Tomorrow Sherrinford would be returning to his work at the school, and Meena would be busy at the hospital.

When they returned to their hotel room, Molly draped her arms over Sherlock's shoulders, smiling up at him.

"I'm very proud of you Sherlock, you behaved much better than I expected today, plus you helped a child find her mother." She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "I think you deserve a reward!" She stepped away from him, turning about. After giving a slightly provocative swivel of her hips she moved towards the bed and began to undress.

Sherlock stayed where he was, watching her, his cock hardening at the sight of her slow-reveal of nakedness. When she pushed down her trousers and knickers, and bent over to give him a glorious view of her wet slit, he suddenly realized that he was still fully dressed. He quickly began to rectify this.

Molly straightened and peered at him over her shoulder, her skin faintly glowing in the soft lamp light. "Do you want me Sherlock?" she asked him in a husky tone.

"I _always_ want you." He gave his cock a few compulsory pumps, allowing her to see how hard he was.

He finished undressing just as she removed the blanket before laying herself over the edge of the bed, her pert arse lifting upwards as she spread her legs. Her pink sex glistened with desire, beckoning to him, begging to be filled. He muttered a curse beneath his breath, his cock giving a prominent twitch. He couldn't wait any longer; he needed to bury himself into her wet heat.

Stepping up behind her, he placed his hands on the cheeks of her arse and smoothed them over her soft skin, before he took a hold of her hips and positioned his cock so that he could enter her. He did so slowly, wanting to drag out this moment, this feeling. He watched as Molly clutched tightly at the sheet, muffling a moan into the mattress. Sherlock didn't stop until he had bottomed out, hissing a groan.

For several moments he stayed still, allowing them both to revel and adjust to the sensations of their bodies being so intimately connected. But then his cock gave a faint twitch, and he could stay immobile no longer. He slipped out of her, only to thrust directly back in.

Molly cried out her encouragement, repeatedly telling him "just like that!", as he continued to thrust. He made certain to fill her with his entire length, each time that he delved into her. When her moans began to increase in pitch, he tightened his grip and quickened his pace. Her clit was rubbing against the sheet with every thrust, and suddenly she let out a wild cry as her orgasm struck. It had come upon her so unexpectedly, she had felt it building, but the dam had burst without warning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she muttered as she pressed her face into the sheet.

He continued to thrust into her, not stopping as her walls tightened and fluttered around him. She whimpered faintly, the only other sound in the room was his hips smacking against the globes of her arse and his laboured breathing. When he felt the all-too-telling tightening in his lower back, he hissed out a curse, gave one final hard thrust and came inside of her.

Momentarily he struggled to not collapse on top of her, before he slipped out his cock and fell down upon the bed. Molly turned her head to look at him, letting out a satisfied hum. He gave her a lazy smile, both of them struggling for breath. After a few minutes they moved up to the centre of the mattress.

Sherlock nudged her onto her back, and now had himself draped over her, their bodies nestled cozily together. He was nibbling and kissing her jaw line as she lay beneath him, his lips making their way towards her ear so that he could take her earlobe between his teeth.

"I can't believe the Symposium is tomorrow. It feels like an age has passed since I got the invitation," Molly said to him as she ran her hands up and down his back.

"Hmmm … I feel that I should buy you something, since this is quite a momentous occasion. Isn't that what husbands do?" he asked between nibbles and kisses.

She laughed softly, it ending in a low hum as he released her earlobe and dropped his head down to suckle at her pulse point. "Are you going to get me a hair pin worth nine million pounds?" she asked in a cheeky tone.

Sherlock snorted. "You really do need to stop reading John's blog."

"Mmmm, nope. It's far too thrilling of a read!"

"Humph!"

 

* * *

 

The next morning Molly was stood in the bathroom, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt, checking over her reflection.

"You're nervous."

Her eyes flittered over to where Sherlock was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I am. But only a little. I don't do this very often; speak in front of a large group of people. It's always slightly overwhelming. But I know that once I start talking, I'll be fine." She took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out.

"You know the subject well enough." He stepped into the room, slipping his arm around her waist.

She smiled, returning her gaze back to the mirror. "You do too. If it weren't for you, I never would have written this paper."

He let out a hum of agreement, dipping his head down to place a kiss directly below her ear. "This is true. That was quite the fascinating case."

Molly frowned slightly. "I still wish you would allow me to credit you."

"No," he said firmly. "Because if you do, not a single person will pay attention to your name, all recognition will be given to me."

She turned to look at him fully. "You do realize how entirely unselfish that is?"

The tips of his ears tinged pink. "Yes."

She looped her arms about his neck. "Thank you."

The blush traveled to his cheeks. "Molly, you are an intelligent woman in a medical field that is dominated by men. Why wouldn't I want you to get the recognition you deserve?"

Instead of giving a verbal answer, she opted for a kiss.

A short time later Sherlock was sat in an auditorium full of people, silently cursing his transport; for there was a proper time and place to get an erection, and there was also an improper time and place to get an erection. At the moment, it was the latter. Sherlock swallowed thickly, shifting ever so slightly in his seat. He wanted to pay close attention to what his wife was saying, even though he knew the words by heart, but he found that verbally hearing her display her intelligence rather turned him on. Closing his eyes, he did his best to block out Molly's voice and instead focused on silently reciting the Henderson-Hasselbalch equation.

Suddenly everyone was on their feet and applauding. Sherlock snapped out of his Mind Palace, rose to his full height, and clapped as loudly as he could. Molly's cheeks were flushed with pride; her eyes met his and her smile widened. She returned to her seat, amongst the other presenters, and as Sherlock sat he couldn't stop himself from silently thanking whoever had scheduled her to speak last.

As everyone made their way towards where the Meet and Greet would be taking place, Sherlock sidled up alongside Molly and whispered hoarsely into her ear, "The fact that you are by far one of the smartest people in this room does things to me, Molly." He had situated himself just so, so that no one else could see as he took her hand in his and placed it on the front of his trousers.

"Sherlock," she hissed out, her cheeks burning brightly as she felt how hard he was.

He smiled wickedly, keeping her hand in place. "There's a supply closet at the end of the hall. It has a lock. And it's just far enough away that no one will hear. No one would hear anyway, they're all making such a racket."

Molly's breath hitched. "Git."

His smile widened. "Shall we?"

She swallowed. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this skirt."

He chuckled, before leading her from the room, staying close to the wall. He had an innate ability to pass unseen when he liked, Molly always wondered how he managed to do so. They entered the hall, moving in the opposite direction of everyone else. She couldn't help but silently curse the fact that her knickers were growing damp at the thought of what they were about to do.

They reached the supply closet, which Molly only later learned he had previously unlocked. Sherlock ushered her inside, and the moment the door closed behind them he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily. She moaned into his mouth as he twisted them about, pressing her against the door. He reached out, flipping the switch and flooding the room with fluorescent light.

"I need to see you," he told her, his voice hoarse with desire.

He grabbed at the hem of her skirt, pushing it up to her stomach. When his fingers brushed against the wet front of her knickers she whimpered. He smiled cheekily as he pressed his thumb against her, on the spot directly over clit.

"Oh!"

He pulled his thumb away, and shoved her knickers to the side so that he could stroke at her seam.

"Yes. Yes!" She was holding onto his arms as he slipped his fingers between her folds, delving them directly into her core. "Fuck!" she hissed out.

Suddenly her hands dropped downward, and he hitched in a breath, momentarily struggling to focus on fucking her with his fingers as she undid the button and zip of his trousers.

"Christ Molly!" he groaned, as she grasped his aching cock in her hand, easing him out of his pants. A muffled curse escaped his lips as she released him in order to shove down his trousers, taking his pants with them. He pulled his fingers from her, sucking them clean as she brought his cock to her soaking wet centre. He grabbed a hold of her legs, raising them up so that she could wrap them about his waist.

"In me now. Please!" she moaned.

He didn't need to be told twice, delving into her directly.

"Yes! Fuck yes!" she cried.

He thrust into her as hard as he could, without making the door rattle. Holding onto her hips he kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as he continued his movements. When he felt her suddenly tighten around him he let out a gasp, his thrusts slowing drastically. He looked at her, loving the expression on her face as she came.

"Sherlock, Sherlock!" she whispered softly.

He moved his hands in order to cup her bum, pulling her closer against his body with each thrust. "Fuck, Molly! You feel so good!"

Her gaze locked with his. "Make me come again Sherlock, I want to come with you!"

He muttered a curse, before kissing her. He entered her as deeply as he could, their hips snapping together as he quickly returned to his previous pace.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh!"

"Molly!" he groaned, as he came quite suddenly.

Her body fluttered and shook against his, and he knew that he had taken her with him. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, and only raised it when he felt her legs drop to the floor.

"Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly.

"Mmmhmm." She nodded. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that I've just been thoroughly shagged by my husband at a symposium! You naughty man!"

His smile was nowhere near sheepish. He kissed her sweetly, and she returned it.

"Hmmm. I think I should clean you up!" he announced as he slipped his softened cock out of her and moved to his knees.

"Sherlock!" she breathed out, pressing her skirt to her stomach without realizing it, shocked yet also slightly turned on by what he was about to do.

He gazed up at her with a wicked smile as he nudged her legs further apart pulling her damp knickers down to her ankles, before dropping his gaze and taking in the sight of her slightly spread and arousal-swollen folds. They were glistening with their combined fluids.

Humming in delight, he delved right in, licking and mouthing at her as if she was the most delectable of desserts. She muttered curses beneath her breath, one hand still holding her skirt up whilst the other moved to the back of his head. She rocked her hips in rhythm to the movements of his tongue. When a quite different sound then his mouth on her, reached her ears she swore loudly.

Dropping down her chin she tried her hardest to catch a glimpse of his hand pumping his cock, but from the way he was angled she couldn't see, but the sound was certainly just as good. Her head dropped back against the door, her lips parted as she continued to moan.

"Fuck, Sherlock ... Oh!"

He nibbled at her clit, before plunging his tongue into her centre groaning as he did so. She was certain she could hear him pick up speed with his hand. As he took her clit between his lips, shifting from suckling it to dragging his tongue across and around it, he groaned quite loudly, the vibrations sending her over the edge. It wasn't until moments later, after she had returned to earth, that it occurred to her that he had come as well.

He gave her seam a few quick swipes with his tongue, before struggling to his feet. She could see that his hand was covered in his semen, and wanted nothing more than to lick it off. But she refrained from doing so, knowing that that would only result in him becoming hard once more.

Due to the fact that they were in a supply closet they were able to easily find items to clean themselves. Once this was done, Sherlock cautiously opened the door and peered out.

"It's empty, there is no one," he told her.

Molly followed him out, smoothing down her skirt. "If anyone happened to have missed us, I am going to be completely mortified," she said as they moved down the hall.

Sherlock let out a sniff, reaching out to grab her hand. "No one will have noticed, they'll all think you were off mingling." His brow furrowed. "How long do we have to stay at this thing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, some of the smartest medical people are in that room, you'd think you'd be more interested!"

He shrugged. "I am interested, but I am more so interested in being alone with you."

She shook her head. "You'll behave won't you? Hold back your deductions?"

He nodded. "Of course. The last thing I want to do is embarrass my wife."

She smiled, a blush coming to her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked, his brow furrowing once more.

She shook her head. "I just still haven't gotten used to hearing you call me that." Her smile widened as she peered up at him.

He dropped her hand and slipped his around her waist, tugging her close before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"We'll stay for an hour, all right?" she asked him.

He nuzzled her ear before replying. "All right."

Molly managed to coerce Sherlock into staying for two hours. There were drinks, and tables of food. For the most part she was in a bit of awe, at first unable to fully carry a conversation. She knew she was smart, she knew that she had talent in the medical field, but she also couldn't help but feel entirely inept with being in a room full of over a hundred people that were all medically and scientifically brilliant.

It wasn't until someone recognized Sherlock and began to question him about his work that she was able to accept the fact that it was _she_ that was amongst her peers. Sherlock had shaken his head, explaining that he was only there to support his wife, and that it was to her that all questions should be directed. If they hadn't been in a room full of strangers she just may have jumped him, her heart flooding with love.

By the time that they did leave, Molly was feeling rather drained. She was certain she had never been subjected to so many different conversations and so many different types of people. There had been a few that had eyed her with a bit of disdain, clearly thinking lesser of her because of her being a woman, and a female pathologist at that, but for the most part everyone had been lovely. And she was now very much so looking forward to returning to their hotel.

She snuggled up against Sherlock as the cab drove through the city, her arm looping around his waist. "Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I did, actually. Some of them were clearly idiots, and there were a few that had stolen the credit from others, but other than that, the majority was rather knowledgeable."

She giggled. "Rather knowledgeable!" She could feel him smiling against her hair.

"No one could hold a candle to you though."

She pressed her face into his chest. "You're just biased because you're married to me."

He humphed. "I am not. It's the truth."

She shook her head refusing to believe him. They fell silent as the cab pulled up outside their hotel. Sherlock paid and they got out and made their way inside. The silence continued as they got into the lift and went up to their floor.

After unlocking the door to their room, Sherlock placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her inside. She didn't see, but he quickly slipped the 'Do Not Disturb' sign onto the outside of their door before letting it snick shut behind him.

Molly was putting down her bag, oblivious to what he had just done. He shrugged off his suit jacket, dropping it to the floor before coming up behind her and twirling her about so that she was facing him.

"You are brilliant Molly Holmes," he said to her. "My brilliant! Brilliant! Wife!" he stated, embellishing each word with a kiss, before allowing the last one to deepen.

She couldn't help but giggle at her husband's ridiculous antics.

"This most certainly calls for celebrating!" he announced once they had pulled apart.

She smiled up at him. "And what do you call what happened in the supply closet?"

"Pre-celebration," he quipped, with a cheeky quirk of an eyebrow. "Hmmmm … I think its high-time I take you up against that window!"

"Fuck," she breathed out.

"Mmm … exactly."

They both began to quickly undress; Molly's knickers were still faintly damp from their earlier activities. The moment they were both naked Sherlock scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the window. He settled her down onto her feet and moved away. She looked at him, wondering what he was doing.

"One moment," he told her.

He switched off all of the lamps; except for one, leaving them almost entirely in the dark. Molly turned to face the window, looking out at the lights of the city. Sherlock came up behind her, molding himself against her. She hummed happily as he slipped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. He took her hands in his, and slowly raised them above her head before placing the palm of each against the cool glass of the window.

Slipping his hands down her arms, he cupped her breasts, teasing at the nipples before tenderly massaging her supple flesh. Molly moaned softly, his cock pressed against her lower back.

"Lean forward a bit," he instructed her. "I want your breasts to move as I fuck you."

She moaned again as she did as he asked. He let go of her breasts, running his hands down her sides until he came to her hips. Removing one hand he wrapped it around his cock so that he could position himself at her entrance. He moaned out her name when he felt how wet she was for him. Once the head of his cock was pressing against her opening he released himself and returned his hand to her hip. With one solid thrust he filled her in entirety.

Molly cried out, her hands scrabbling to make purchase with the glass as he settled in to a rhythm of deep, hard thrusts. "Oh God Sherlock!" she moaned, his cock was angled in such a way that he was hitting her g-spot with every thrust.

Tightening the grip of one hand, the other moved forward until he was able to swirl his finger over and around her clit. She screamed out his name, as she threw her head back. He mouthed at her neck, giving the tender nub one last caress before pulling his hand away so that he could return it to her hip. He was practically pounding into her now; desperate for his own release.

Molly encouraged him, chanting out "yes, yes, yes!" in time with his thrusts. "That's it, fill me up with your big, thick cock and come inside of me!"

"Oh Christ!" Sherlock hissed out, biting down onto her shoulder as his cock pulsed and twitched inside of her. He groaned into her skin as she pressed her bum back up against him. She removed her hands from the glass as he looped an arm around her middle in order to hold her close. They stayed like this for several moments, his softening cock slipping out from her.

"Shower?" she murmured to him.

"Mmm … how about a bath?"

"Ohhhh … that sounds lovely!"

He pressed a kiss to her neck. "Run the bath, and I'll call up a bottle of champagne." He gave her bottom a little smack as she stepped away from him, making her shriek.

Pulling on a dressing gown, he grabbed up the hotel phone. As he ordered the champagne, he could hear the water running in the bathroom. Once the bottle had arrived he popped it open, removed his dressing gown, and grabbed up two glasses before he carried them and the bottle into the bathroom.

Molly was waiting for him, already in the water, and she had lit the little candles that were dotted about the room. They were the only light in the room. The bath was nearly the size of a Jacuzzi. She watched him as he poured them both a glass of champagne, before he handed her one and stepped into the water. A happy sigh escaped him as he eased himself down into it. She waited for him to get comfortable then snuggled up beside him.

"Cheers, to my brilliant wife," he said to her, giving her glass a little clink with his own.

"Cheers to my brilliant husband!" she replied.

Instead of each taking a sip, they shared in a kiss.

 

* * *

 

"I don't know how people do it," Molly grumbled beneath her breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled at the tray table and small screen affixed to the back of the seat in front of her.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked as he typed away on his laptop.

"Travel all the time! I can't fathom it, to spend your life in an airport and on an airplane, its madness."

He side-eyed her. "Why so cantankerous? I hardly ever see you like this, and I know it's not because of your menses."

She pouted. "I'm tired. If you hadn't kept me up all night _celebrating_ , I would have managed to get more sleep!"

He smiled widely. "Admit it, you enjoyed every second of it!"

She sniffed slightly, but a smile was toying at the edge of her lips. "Damn you Sherlock!"

He chuckled. "We won't be going to the museum until tomorrow so we can go straight to our hotel from the airport, all right? I promise that I'll let you get some sleep." He gave her cheek a kiss. "And we're nearly there; the captain should be announcing our descent any minute now."

As soon as he finished speaking the captain came on over the intercom. Molly looked at Sherlock and burst out laughing. He tucked his arm around her shoulders, giving her cheek another kiss.

"Much better. I prefer to see you smiling," he said to her.

Little over an hour later they were settled in at their hotel. Molly took a quick shower, while Sherlock ordered them some food.

"The marble in the bathroom is incredible!" she said to him as she walked out, wrapped up in a fluffy towel, as she dried her hair with another towel. "You certainly know how to pick hotels, Sherlock."

He smiled at her. "The food should be here in a few minutes."

She quickly put on a pair of pyjamas and plaited her hair. Once they had eaten she curled up with him in one of the chairs, sleepy, but not quite ready to get into bed yet. Sherlock held her in his arms as he sorted and maneuvered data about it in his Mind Palace.

The following morning Sherlock and Molly made their way to the museum.

"So … what exactly is it that went missing?" she asked. "A scroll?"

He nodded. "Yes, the name of it is _Han Xizai Gives A Night Banquet_ and it is from the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period." When he saw that she was giving him a blank look he added, "In the 10th century."

"Oh wow, so it's very old!"

"Yes. And it is considered to be one of the most famous Chinese paintings."

"Really? These poor people, they must be very upset that it has been missing!"

"Mmmm."

She shook her head. "It's been nearly seven months that it's been gone. They must be distraught!"

He shrugged, as she worried her bottom lip.

"Do you – ahhh –," she stopped.

He looked at her. "Do I what? You haven't hesitated in asking me anything in ages. Spit it out Molly."

She twisted her fingers together. "Do you think because of the gap in time from when it was stolen to now, that you'll have any sort of difficulty in solving it?"

He was silent. Swallowing thickly she tilted her head to the side to peer up at him. He was staring straight ahead, unblinking.

"It's possible," he answered a few moments later. "But I have been informed that they left the scene of the crime untouched, and that a guard has been keeping watch over it. Apparently their police are baffled, no surprise; even within different cultures the police seem to always be out of their depth."

"Why would someone steal such an important and historical painting?"

He shrugged again. "Why is anything ever stolen? For money, either that or for the thief to have their name blasted across the papers and on newscasts. For attention."

They arrived at the Palace Museum and Molly's mouth dropped open when she saw it.

"Oh my, this place is magnificent! I don't think I will ever get over the remarkable architecture here, it's so beautiful."

They got out of the cab and made their way inside. Sherlock approached the woman who was taking the tickets, explaining to her who he was and why he was there. She had been informed of his coming, and asked them to wait while she went to get the director. Sherlock looked about them, taking in all that he could.

After a few minutes the woman returned with a man. He introduced himself as Shan Zhou, and explained that he was the Museum Director. He spoke excellent English as he led them towards the crime scene.

"We are very grateful to you for coming all of this way to help solve this mystery. The loss of such an important painting has saddened the entire country," he stated.

They were brought to a small roped off area, where a painting had clearly once been hanging. Zhou spoke with the guard, explaining to him who they were and what they would be doing. Meanwhile Sherlock had crouched down and was examining the area. Molly watched him for a moment, always enjoying when he went into Consulting Detective mode, before turning her gaze to the scene of the crime. He had told her that an extra pair of eyes, especially hers, was always appreciated.

Nothing stood out to her straight away, and she couldn't tell if there was anything for him either. He stood, scowling at the area. Zhou had been watching them silently.

"You have security footage?" Sherlock asked him.

"Yes. We've kept the footage from the day when the painting was stolen, and the police have watched it also and found nothing to aid them in their search. Come with me, I will show you."

They watched the footage, and it appeared to be that there wasn't anything that showed how or by whom the painting had been stolen. The feed didn't run fully, it took only shots of the room in sixty-second bursts, and it was between one of these bursts that at one moment the painting was there, and the next moment it wasn't. Sherlock stared at the screen, certain he was missing something.

After a few more moments he turned to Zhou. "I'll need to take some samples from the floor of the crime scene then I would like to take some samples from your employee's shoes. If that is at all possible." He gave him a warm smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

Zhou blinked at him for a few moments. "Yes. Yes I suppose that it would be."

Sherlock managed to collect samples from all but one employee, Zhou's son. He had been sent on an errand, to check on his ailing mother, Zhou's wife. Sherlock was somewhat annoyed by this, but only allowed Molly to be aware of his disgruntlement. When the son at last arrived Sherlock quickly took the sample as the boy gushed over him, telling him how much he admired his work and that he always read his blog. Sherlock was, of course, a bit puffed up by this, always enjoying when someone told him that they liked his writings. After Sherlock told Zhou that they would return tomorrow, he and Molly left. Once they had walked out of the museum and were making their way down the stairs, Sherlock took out his mobile.

"Mycroft. Molly and I require access to a lab."

Fifteen minutes passed with him arguing with his brother before they were in a cab on their way to the police station. Sherlock was grumbling beneath his breath, his brow creased as he glared out the taxi window.

"Sherlock, we're in another country," Molly said to him, "they're not going to let some foreigner use their labs. This isn't Barts!"

He humphed. "You're the only one I trust to run my tests, and run them properly. They better do a thorough job."

"You're lucky Mycroft has gotten you the clearance you have." She hooked her arm through his, settling her chin on his shoulder so that she could peer up at her husband.

His annoyance ebbed slightly as he turned to press a kiss to her forehead. "Would you like to be dropped off at the hotel?" he offered as he looked at her. "I can see you're tired."

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I don't know how long I'll be at the police station, might be hours. I'd prefer you to be comfortable."

She leaned her head back, offering her mouth for a kiss. He gave it to her and she smiled.

"I'd like that. I am rather tired," she said to him.

Once she had gotten to their hotel room she took a quick shower, slipped on one of Sherlock's t-shirts and snuggled beneath the covers. Within minutes she was fast asleep. He didn't return until three hours later.

When he did he changed out of his suit, putting on only a dressing gown before grabbing up the folder the police had given him. He sat himself cross-legged upon the floor and began to lay out the contents of the folder. Molly slept for another hour before rolling onto her side and blinking sleepily at Sherlock who was still sat upon the floor.

"Hi," she mumbled as she rubbed her face with her hand, before running it through her hair.

"Hello," he replied, looking at her over his shoulder. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm." She sat up, wiping at her eyes. "No where near as well as I would have if you had been in the bed with me though." She moved off of the bed, and walked over to him, kneeling at his side. "Anything good?" she asked, before slipping her arm around his waist and nuzzling at his neck.

"Stop that!" he growled out, when she nibbled directly over his pulse point.

She chuckled, and pulled away, knowing that he wasn't actually annoyed by her actions. He tucked his arm around her, allowing her to move onto his lap.

"For once, and I am certain this will never happen again," he said to her, "I find that I must admit that the police aren't entirely out of their depth. They are to the extent that they needed to consult me, but they did do a rather thorough job before realizing they required my assistance."

"Oh? Should they be rewarded some sort of medal?" she asked, barely holding back a smile.

He pinched her bottom. "Ha ha."

"So what did they find?"

"Well, they determined that it was not an outside job; the security in the museum is too secure for that, and I agree with them. This required inside knowledge, to be able to pull it off so smoothly. But this is where they realized they needed me; when the staff's alibi's checked out." Sherlock waved his hand over the written statements.

Molly peered at the papers for a moment. "Someone lied. Most likely had a friend to back up their supposed alibi."

He kissed her before saying, "Yes. That's exactly what I was thinking! Brilliant woman!" He kissed her again, making her smile. "Now it's to find who the liar is." His gaze returned to the Deduction Floor.

"Will the soil samples you sent to the lab help in figuring this out?" she asked.

"Possibly."

Noting that his eyes had become unfocused she moved out of his hold, and stood. "I'm going to order some food," she murmured.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

She smiled as she picked up the phone.

When the food arrived she curled up in a nearby chair and ate, whilst Sherlock continued to peruse through his Mind Palace. She watched him, rather enjoying being able to observe him, knowing that the wheels were turning inside of his head. Just as she was taking her last mouthful, he moved.

"I've narrowed it down to these three," he said, as he pointed at the photos he had just laid side by side.

She leaned forward, peering down at them. "Jiao-Long, Mei, and Zhou's son?"

"Mmm."

"What makes you suspect them?" she asked.

Sherlock placed his elbows onto his knees, steepling his fingers. "Jiao-Long has only worked at the museum for a year. His alibi does check out, I don't see anyway as to how it could not, but I don't want to rule him out just yet. Now with Mei, her alibi is a bit shaky, she claims that she was at the National Centre for the Performing Arts seeing a ballet. I say shaky because yes, she does have a ticket, but there's no security footage proving that she was there and with the multitude of people it was impossible to get an eye-witness. Also, the centre is close by to the museum."

"Ahhh. And Zhou's son?"

Sherlock frowned. "I don't like him."

Molly fought back a giggle. "You can't make someone a suspect just because you don't like them!"

He sniffed. "It's not only that. You heard him, rambling on about how brilliant he thought I was and how much he liked my blog."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why does that make you suspect him?"

"He only mentioned my blog, 'The Science of Deduction', he never once mentioned John's," Sherlock explained.

"Oh."

"He was trying to distract me."

She propped her chin in her hand. "Distract you? Distract you from what?"

"I don't know. And I don't like not knowing."

 

* * *

 

The next day they returned to the museum. The samples he had taken were still being analyzed, making him frustrated.

"You would have had them ready for me hours ago!" he griped.

She laid her hand on his arm, and he breathed out heavily through his nose.

"So why are we here again? What do you want to look at?" she asked him.

He let out another breath. "I have a feeling the thief may think he's clever, but not clever enough to get passed me."

She rolled her eyes. Just then Zhou came walking up to them, looking most distressed.

"I need you to come to my office, directly," he said to them, he turned and they followed him.

His office was located behind a door that could only be accessed via a keypad. After putting in a sequence of numbers, the door popped open and he ushered them inside. They stepped into a long, well lit hallway that was lined by doors, which Molly presumed led to offices. He led them down the hall, towards a door that was affixed with a gold plaque that was engraved with his name. He opened the door and they walked in. For a brief moment the office was dark, but then he switched on the light and the reason for his distress was revealed.

Upon every wall was affixed a large piece of paper; each looking like a badly made ransom note. The words were in Chinese, and even though Molly couldn't understand what they said, she was certain that they were threats.

"They were here this morning. Someone must have hung them up during the night," Zhou said to them.

"Mmmm. Have you touched any of these?" Sherlock asked him.

Zhou shook his head. "No. I thought it best not to."

"Wise decision. But I am sure the thief wore gloves while making these, either that or had someone else make them for him. Still … it will be best to have them dusted for prints." Sherlock approached one of the letters, peering at it. "Have the other offices been checked?"

"Yes. We found nothing. Only these in here. Whoever stole the painting must know that I hired you," Zhou answered.

"Mmmm … no thanks to the media …," Sherlock muttered beneath his breath. "Did you call the police about this?" he asked as he turned to look at him.

"No. I wanted you to see these first."

Sherlock nodded. "Good. Thank you. You may call them now if you like." He took his mobile from his phone and began to take pictures of the notes.

Zhou nodded and moved towards his desk. While he was talking to the police Molly stepped up alongside Sherlock.

"So what do these notes say?" she asked him.

"Nothing of real importance. Slightly juvenile really. This one says: 'End the investigation now.'" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "If you're going to tell someone to end something you should add a reason as to why! And this one here says: 'The painting is gone forever.' The other two say the same thing, just worded slightly differently. Trivial. "

"Do you think the thief is worried now, and that's why they did this?"

Sherlock shrugged. "It's possible. I doubt the police will find anything of any worth from these notes though."

Zhou hung up his phone and walked back over to them. "The police are on their way," he said.

"Can we see the security footage from last night?" Sherlock asked.

"Of the museum?" he asked dumbly.

"No. Back here, of the offices."

Zhou shook his head. "We don't have security cameras here. There has never been any need for them!"

Sherlock sighed. "Very well then."

The police arrived a short time later. And just as Sherlock had deduced, there were no prints to be found on the notes. Also, much to his annoyance, the lab results were still not ready.

With a barely contained growl, he strode back out into the museum, Molly struggling to keep up. He slowed his pace once they had gotten well away from the police.

"What now?" she asked.

"I need to think," he answered.

They left the museum, returning to their hotel. Sherlock sat himself upon the floor, entering his Mind Palace almost instantly. Molly amused herself with a book for a time, but quickly became bored with it. She briefly considered going out to sight-see, then decided against it. Sherlock was still deep within his Mind Palace when she got up and moved over to his Deduction Floor.

Before they had left for the museum that morning he had hung up the 'Do Not Disturb' sign upon their door. This was a rather wise choice, for she didn't know what anyone would have made of the floor being covered with photographs and police notes.

She studied the papers for several moments, trying to come up with her own conclusion. She looked at the photos of the three 'suspects', unable to discern that either of them could be the guilty person. "Hmmm …"

"What?"

She jumped before turning to look at Sherlock. His eyes were open and he was peering at her.

"What have you thought of?" he questioned.

"Well, it's just … it doesn't make any sense. This painting, it's famous, it would be worth a fortune, wouldn't it? And yet, Mycroft told us that there hasn't been any sign of it being sold on the black market," she said slowly.

"Mmmm. Continue. I know you have more."

"Why steal a painting, if you're not going to sell it? What's the motive then? It's not like you can display it in your home! Unless they have some secret room they can hang it up in where they can go and look at it … but still, it's an awful risk."

Sherlock grew quiet, returning to his Mind Palace. Noting the late hour, Molly called for room service. She ate quietly, while reading her book. Sherlock suddenly stood and retrieved his mobile from his jacket pocket. She was rather surprised that he hadn't asked her to get it for him.

"Find something?" she asked.

"No. Not exactly. I just want to study these a bit more closely." He held up his phone, showing her the pictures he had taken of the notes in Zhou's office.

He sat down beside her, zooming in on one of the notes, as she continued to eat.

"Aha!"

She looked at him.

"A message within a message. Fascinating," he mumbled.

"Care to share?"

He looked up at her, smiling. "There's another message, look." He held his phone out to her.

She took it and looked at the picture. It was just as he said, there was another message, but it was penciled faintly beneath the magazine cut-out letters. To the naked eye, it was entirely indiscernible.

"Can you tell what it says?" she asked. "Zooming in makes it rather fuzzy."

He took his phone back. "Yes. I can. It says: 'You will never solve this.'"

"Oh so they're taunting you now."

He grunted. "Seems like it."

"Do the other notes have a hidden message as well?"

"Yes. This one says: 'You will bring dishonour to your name.'"

She sniffed. "Aren't they sweet?"

"Mmm, this one says, 'Give up now!' Humph boring, and the other: 'Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.'"

Molly looked at him. "That's Confucius!"

He blinked.

"You've never heard of Confucius?"

He blinked again. "Should I have?"

She sighed. "No. I suppose not. He was a Chinese philosopher, among other things. Why would the thief put a quote by him, and one about revenge? Is that a clue? But why would they give you a clue? Could that be it though, the reason for the theft? Revenge?"

Sherlock's eyes became unfocused, as he said, "I think you're onto something, Molly."

He didn't speak for the rest of the evening. Nor did he seem to move. She eventually went to bed and was rather surprised, but in no way disappointed, when she woke up the following morning in his arms. It was clear to her though that he had not slept.

After she had breakfast they returned to the museum once more, Sherlock wanting to have another look at the scene of the crime. Zhou was happy to see them, but clearly still a bit on edge because of the notes. For several minutes Sherlock moved about the crime scene, crouching down to look with his magnifying glass, quietly muttering to himself. His text tone pinged, and he pulled out his mobile and read the message.

Suddenly he straightened, his hands falling to his sides as he stared directly ahead. Molly knew that he was in his Mind Palace, calculating or finding some bit of stored away information. She waited patiently, giving a small smile to Zhou, certain that he was wondering what Sherlock was doing.

"The painting is still here," he spoke quietly.

Molly turned quickly to look at him. "What?"

"The painting is here. It's never left the museum." He blinked a few times before his gaze fell upon her. "These _clues_ we've been given, they're merely a false trail, meant to distract me from the truth. He thought he could upset me, annoy me with his ridiculous taunts and that I'd loose focus."

Her mouth dropped open. "But if it's still here, wouldn't someone have found it by now?"

He smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Once you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains-"

"Yes, yes, however improbable, must be the truth. I know! That doesn't explain how it could be here. They've looked all over the place, multiple times."

"It's been hiding in plain sight, Molly."

She blinked at him.

He let out a slight huff, before facing the museum director. "If you would be so kind as to inform the police that I have found their suspect, I will be more than happy to show you where the _stolen_ painting is."

A look of delight and relief crossed over Zhou's features. "You have found the guilty man? Oh thank you! Thank you! I knew that hiring you would be a wise choice. Yes, I will call the police now. Then please, show me the painting." He gave a short bow then hurried off to his office.

Molly waited until the man was out of sight. "Well? So who is the culprit?"

Sherlock frowned slightly. "His son."

Her mouth fell open once more. "His son? Just like you thought! But oh no. That's not good. Not good at all."

"Mmmm ... hence the reason why I didn't tell him. Thought it was best for the police to handle that."

She raised an eyebrow, looking at her husband as if she had never seen him before.

"What?" he growled out.

She bit back a smile. "Oh nothing, it's just I'm surprised. That's all. You never leave anything to the police."

"Hmph. You're entirely to blame."

"What? Why? How?"

He rolled his eyes then faced her squarely. "Normally I would have rattled off straight away who the guilty party was, not giving a care for the hurt and humiliation I was causing. But now, thanks to you, I've learned that that is ... A Bit Not Good."

Molly's cheeks flamed. "I can't take the entire blame. John surely has a part in that too."

He gave a non-committal nod. "Yes. I suppose you are right."

"So ... ahhh, where is the painting?"

He smiled. "As I said, hidden in plain sight." He led her towards the roped off area, but strode passed it, not stopping until he reached the painting that was hanging on the opposite wall. He gestured to it.

Molly looked at the painting, then back at Sherlock. "He hid it behind that?"

"Yes."

"How did you figure that out? The security footage didn't show anything!"

His smile widened. "To the untrained eye, it didn't, but for me it did. There was the faintest bit of movement from this painting," he gestured to it before continuing, "directly at the end of the feed. I had my suspicions then, but just now they were confirmed." He held up his phone showing her the text he had received; a text from one of the lab technicians telling him the results of his soil test. "There were traces of mud on the floor near this painting, and it matches the samples that had been taken from the original crime scene. And they also match the samples I took from his shoe."

"But how does that prove it's the son? Wouldn't the father have the same mud on his shoe?"

Sherlock's eyes were practically glittering. "Zhou wouldn't consider for one second stealing a grand work of art. It's clear that he enjoys his job, and holds every single piece of art in this museum in the highest regard. He also wouldn't be able to lie if he had a gun held to his head, he's too honest. No it is definitely the son. The boy is a decent actor, but he is no thespian. He's quick on his feet, but he is also sloppy. And his biggest mistake was not mentioning John's blog and quoting Confucius."

"So his motive was revenge?"

"Yes. He didn't steal it to hang in his secret room. It _was_ revenge because he was upset with his father for not allowing him to pursue the career that he wanted. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, become a museum director just like him. The boy clearly has no respect for art or history. He hadn't a clue of the true value of this painting; all he wanted was to make his father upset."

Molly eyed the painting before them, Sherlock hadn't touched it. " _'Dig two graves_ …' So ... he became frightened, didn't he, when he realized how important the painting was?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. And when they hired me, well ... he got the idiotic idea into his head that he could outsmart me."

 

* * *

 

It was late by the time they returned to their hotel room. The scene they had just left had not been a happy one. Molly's mind was awhirl, suffering from a bit of culture shock. And to her absolute horror all she could hear inside of her head was Mushu's voice from Mulan saying, 'Dishonour on you! Dishonour on your cow!' She scrubbed at her face, thankful that Sherlock wasn't entirely capable of reading her every thought. Not that he would have understood the reference anyway.

"Well, congratulations Sherlock. Another case solved!"

"Mmm," he replied absent-mindedly. His removed his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.

Molly watched him for a few moments. "You're oddly quiet. Usually you are much more exuberant after a finished case!"

He shrugged, and removed his shirt.

"Sherlock? What is it? What's the matter?" She approached him, gently laying her hand on his arm.

He stared down at it, seeming to be unable to look at her. "The look on Zhou's face, when he found out that it was his son. I've seen that expression before, on my mother and father's face, far too many times; _disappointment_." He spoke the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She stepped closer to him, and laid her head upon his arm. "I've seen it too, on my mum's face when I told her I was going to go to school to become a pathologist. I think it's inevitable, children will never do exactly what their parents want them too."

"Is that what will happen with our children, will they disappoint us?"

Molly tilted her head back and looked up at him. "I don't know, it would be nice to think not, but it's really impossible to say."

He nodded.

"Let's go to bed, you need sleep."

He nodded once more, and they both got changed into their pyjamas. Once they got into bed he curled up around her, his head on her chest, her arms tucked around him.

"I miss Baker Street," she murmured. "And Toby."

Sherlock tilted his head back slightly. "You don't want to go to Kyoto?"

"Oh I do. It would be silly not to, since we're so close. But I'm also looking forward to going home."

"Mmm… home." He nuzzled at her breast, smiling when her nipple began to pebble.

A soft moan escaped her lips as he took it into his mouth, suckling it through the fabric.

"Off with this!" he grumbled, pushing up her t-shirt.

She chuckled, quickly removing it.

"Much better," he muttered before taking her breast between his lips.

"Ohhhhh! Eeeee!" she squeaked, as he bit down on the pert bud. "I thought you were tired?"

"Mm … adrenaline," his answer was slightly muffled as he swirled his tongue over her skin.

They gradually worked off each others clothes, until they were both naked. Sherlock's mouth was now upon hers, kissing her deeply as he took a hold of her thigh, raising it so that it rested against his hip. He slipped his cock into her in one smooth stroke, both of them moaning into the others mouth.

"Oh Sherlock!" she gasped out, clinging to him tightly as he settled into a rhythm of slow, yet deep thrusts.

He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing it tenderly as he gave her another kiss. Their bodies moved together in one fluid motion, moans and wild cries filling the room.

"Just like that!" she whimpered, as he tilted his hips. "AHHH!" Her nails dug into his shoulders as she came.

He watched her, transfixed by the sight of her in ecstasy. As she slowly came back down to earth; he picked up the pace of his thrusts, eager to reach his own release. Her breasts shook each time that he entered her, and he dipped his head to take one dancing nipple between his lips. He groaned into her skin as his orgasm coursed through his body, his hips pressed tightly against hers. Releasing her nipple with a soft pop, he laid his head down upon her chest, allowing her to cradle him close as he struggled to regain his breath.

When a few minutes had passed he rolled off of her, and they both took their turn in the bathroom, cleaning themselves up before returning to the bed. He curled around her once more, making her giggle.

"Feeling better now?" she questioned.

He let out a soft hum. "Making love to you always makes me feel better."

She gave his forehead a kiss.

"Thank you for helping me Molly. Your insight is far better than John's ever was."

She gave his curls a faint tug.

 

* * *

 

Molly slept through the majority of the flight to Kyoto. Sherlock kept himself occupied with sorting and filing in his Mind Palace. When they arrived in Japan they made their way through customs before boarding a train that would take them near to their hotel.

"Can you promise me something Sherlock?" Molly asked as they settled into their seats.

"Mmm, depends on what the promise entails," he replied.

She gave him a playful shove. "Can you promise me that after this, we won't leave London for several months, perhaps the rest of the year?"

He gave a shrug. "If it's what you want."

"It is. I want to be at home, with you, not gallivanting about the planet."

He put his arm around her, tugging her close. "Would it surprise you if I were to tell you that I feel the same way?"

She smiled. "No. I know how much you love London, and how much you love Baker Street."

They were silent for the rest of the train ride, watching as Japan flew by them. After getting a taxi, they only had a short drive to their final destination.

"Well, this is certainly nothing like where I stayed when I was here last!" she said as they pulled up in front of a rather luxurious hotel.

He smiled. "Only the best for you."

She shook her head. "Stop spoiling me!"

He continued to smile. "Nope!" he declared as he popped the 'p'.

A few minutes later they were alone in their room, a rather large and elegant suite.

"It's wonderful to be in Japan again, it was such a long time ago," Molly said as she walked over to the window, looking out at their view, which was of a lush garden.

"Where do you want to go to first?" Sherlock asked her.

"Oh no, let's just stay in for today," she replied, turning about to face him. "All this traveling has me beat; we can sight-see tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I am. I think we both deserve a lie-in."

His smile turned wicked. "Oh! So that's what you have in mind is it?" He scooped her up into his arms, making her shriek.

"Sherlock!" she cried out as he dropped her onto the bed, silencing any further protestations with a kiss.

They made love slowly, kissing and stroking each other's bodies, managing to make love twice more, before at last dropping off to sleep. They both slept soundly for several hours, locked within each other's embrace.

All was quiet, it being the middle of the night, when Sherlock suddenly sat up, gasping for breath. Molly jolted awake, but then stayed still, accustomed to him waking up like this from certain dreams. She became concerned though when he curled over, his forehead nearly touching the blanket, as he continued to struggle for breath. This was _not_ like the other times. She slowly sat up, her hand reaching out towards him but not touching him.

"Molly, _please_ , don't hesitate. Your touch neither upsets me nor disturbs me." He paused for a breath. "It calms and soothes me. It makes me feel home. Safe and warm." He took in another ragged breath.

She placed her hand on his arm, before gently gliding it over onto his back. He stayed curled into himself for several more moments before slowly straightening, his breathing becoming more normal. She kept her arm locked around him, her other hand on the top of his leg.

He swallowed thickly. "I think it's time to tell you. You have the right to know, _everything_." He paused, staring down at the blanket. "You won't like what I'm going to say. You may even hate me."

"Sherlock. You got high for a case, you fake-proposed to Janine, and you killed Magnussen. You also nearly overdosed to prove that Moriarty was dead. Even with all of these, I still forgave you, I still love you. There's nothing that would ever make me hate you."

A shudder ran through his body. "I can only hope."

Molly laid her head against his arm, and waited for him to begin.

He swallowed thickly once more before taking in a shaky breath. "Remember when I told you about going to university, that because I didn't have Sherrinford with me that that was where my drug addiction began?"

"Yes," she answered.

He swallowed. "I wasn't being entirely truthful when I told you that. Sherrinford wasn't to blame, not really. It was more so myself ... and someone that I met there; became acquainted with. He and I, we became friends; inseparable. What ultimately brought us together though was our mutual admiration for cocaine. But it wasn't until during our third year that we ... we fell in love." Sherlock paused, waiting. When he received no response he looked at her. "No gasp of shock? No noise of wonder, horror?" he questioned.

Molly's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why would there be? I always knew you were bisexual."

He blinked at her, before letting out a slow breath, the tension in his body ebbing away. "As always you can see me when no one else ever has." He looked away from her. "It doesn't bother you?"

She shook her head. "No. Why should it?" She paused, realization washing over her. " _Oh_."

A crestfallen expression crossed over his face.

She tightened her arm about him. "It doesn't bother me Sherlock. It never has. And I'm sorry that you've had to deal with those who believe otherwise."

He slowly let out another breath.

"What was his name?" she asked cautiously.

Sherlock took in another breath, letting it out shakily before saying, "Victor. His name was Victor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs and hides*
> 
> Heh. Well I had to end it in a way to make you want more! Right? Right? ... errr ...
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed the madness that is this chapter, and I truly hope I can get the next chapter to you much sooner than I did with this one *welp*
> 
> Please leave a review, they mean so much to me, and make me so happy :)


	43. His Name was Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo woo! Wasn't too long of a wait, right?
> 
> Anyway ... this chapter has ahh ... a few things in it that might be a little upsetting to some, hence the warning below.
> 
> Other than that though, I hope everyone enjoys this.
> 
> See you at the bottom!
> 
> ***Trigger warning: mention of drug use and drug overdose (nothing hugely detailed)***

* * *

"His name was Victor. Victor Trevor," Sherlock said to Molly, pausing briefly before he continued, "And for the passed thirteen years I thought he was dead."

" _Thought_ he was?" she questioned.

Sherlock nodded, before laying back down, taking her with him. He tucked her against his chest, his arm holding her close as he breathed in deeply.

"This is where Sherrinford comes in. And I'm going to backtrack a bit. In my second year at uni, I invited Victor home with me, for the Christmas holidays. My parents loved him, mostly because he was able to hide his drug habit explicitly well, and he was quite the ... charmer. I was not so lucky, both Mycroft and Sherrinford saw straight through my lies. In spite of this though, Sherrinford and Victor became very close. Both had a brain for mathematics and thus they'd spend hours together discussing equations. They kept in touch when we returned back to our classes. It annoyed me slightly, but I'm really not the jealous type."

Molly gave a quiet snort, and he pinched her side.

"Also, I wasn't in love with him then," Sherlock added.

She shifted slightly so that she could prop her chin upon his chest and look at him. "When was it that you realized you were in love with Victor?" she asked quietly.

Sherlock stared at her for a few moments. "I'm not entirely sure. For years I tried to delete all memories of him, but I've found it to be impossible. For a lack of a better word, he's haunted me."

She frowned. "Perhaps it went something likes this: 'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'"

He contemplated her words for a moment, realizing that she was quoting a line from one of her favourite novels. "Yes. I suppose so. And I do know for certain that it wasn't during one of our drug-addled highs. We were both sober, or at least, as sober as we could manage." He smoothed his hand over her back, his fingertips brushing back and forth over her skin, as he stared up at the ceiling. "But from that moment on we ...," his voice trailed off, the words sticking in his throat.

She tilted her head forward, pressing her lips to his chest. "You brought out the worst in each other, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Two people with addictive natures should never fuck each other."

She laid her head down, her cheek pressed to his chest. "You were both young, Sherlock."

"That's no excuse for what happened," he stated bitterly.

She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"It was the last week of term, and if we passed these exams we would both graduate. We had just both completed our final exam and decided to take a hit, just a tiny one, in celebration. I allowed Victor to measure out the dose. I didn't pay attention to the amount and it wasn't until later that I realized it was too much; he had measured out just the right dosage to kill. I don't know why he did it, if it was an accident or not. But I've spent years and years trying to find the answer, and I never have." A shudder ran through Sherlock's body and Molly pressed herself closer up against him.

"It was three days later that I woke up in hospital," his voice was thick, yet raw with emotions as he spoke these words; raw with the emotions that he had suppressed for a very long time. "No one gave me an answer when I asked about Victor. The subject was always changed. I didn't discover what happened to him until after I had been placed in rehab, and Sherrinford came to visit me. He told me that Victor had died. That the dosage of cocaine he had taken was fatal, mine was very nearly so, and if we hadn't been found when we were, I would have been dead as well. Sherrinford placed the blame fully on me. He told me that I was an idiot, a selfish fool. I told him to go to hell."

The room filled with silence, and stayed this way for several minutes.

"So ... Sherrinford lied?" Molly questioned.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Mycroft told him to," he answered indignantly "Mycroft knew that if Victor and I were allowed to see each other, it would start all over again. He thought it was the best thing to do. And this is why for years Sherrinford hasn't spoken to me. When we went to visit him and Meena in Shanghai, I asked him about what happened, and he told me everything. He said that he no longer cared what Mycroft would do to him; he felt that I had the right to know. That I had the right to know that Victor hadn't died."

Molly brushed her lips against Sherlock's skin, nuzzling her nose against him. "I have more in common with him than I thought. To keep such a secret for all this time, I can't imagine it." She sat up, situating herself so that she could look down at him fully. His hand came to rest on her hip. She could see that the rims of his eyes were red, swollen with unshed tears. "So this is why you've always been afraid of my leaving you; because you thought for all these years that _he_ left you." She leaned forward, placing her palm against his cheek. "Sherlock, you can't allow the mistakes of your past to define who you are today. You need to learn to let go."

His eyes fell closed, two tears sneaking out from beneath his lids. Molly gently kissed them away.

"Do you know where Victor is?" she asked.

Sherlock's eyes opened. "No. Mycroft won't allow it."

She let out a huff. "And when has that ever stopped you?"

"Molly ... he _is_ the British Government. Any attempt I make to try and find Victor, he'll thwart it."

She frowned. "Does he honestly believe that it would be so dangerous for you to see each other, after all of this time?"

Sherlock returned his gaze to the ceiling. "Yes. I think he does."

Her frowned deepened. "Do _you_ think it would be?"

"Once an addict, always an addict Molly. And I'm honestly surprised at you, why are you so determined for me to see my former lover?"

She placed her hand over his heart. "Because I don't think you will ever truly be at peace until you do see him, and that you get your questions answered."

It was Sherlock's turn to frown. "I find it rather annoying when you're right and I'm not."

She giggled. "Hush." She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

"I'm glad I told you," he murmured to her, once they parted.

She smiled. "So am I."

"I feel … oddly lighter. I suppose because I never told anyone about him, not even John," he said to her.

He rolled them onto their sides, and she reached out to grab the blanket, pulling it up over both their shoulders. She snuggled against his chest as he held her close. He nuzzled her ear, placing a kiss below it upon her neck.

"Thank you Molly, for always being there for me," he murmured quietly.

She tightened her hold on him. "You are most welcome Sherlock."

Gradually his breathing grew steadier; slower, and she knew that he had fallen back asleep. She stayed awake much longer, contemplating all that he had told her. And right before she allowed herself to drift off, she made the decision to have a chat with Mycroft. There were things that needed to be discussed, and questions that needed to be asked. First on the list was: is Victor _still_ among the living?

* * *

After Sherlock had unburdened himself to Molly he appeared to be much happier, more at peace. The following week they spent exploring the area of Kyoto. He suggested that they could stay longer, travel to other parts of Japan, but she insisted that Kyoto was enough. She deeply appreciated that he was so willing to continue traveling, even though she knew deep down that he must be getting bored.

On their last night in Japan he surprised her by taking her to one of the most expensive restaurants in the area, _Kitcho_. She teased him, wondering if he was trying to butter her up for some reason, but he quickly insisted that he was not.

"I told you once that I enjoy spoiling you, and I meant it," he said to her. "And besides, Mycroft is footing the bill."

She shook her head but decided to hold back on berating him, knowing that it was futile. Their meal was remarkable, each dish exquisitely plated like a work of art. And it was while they were eating that Molly discovered something quite surprising about Sherlock.

She held in her laughter as best as she could as she watched him fumble with his chopsticks for the nth time. Putting down hers she leaned across the table. "Hold them like this," she instructed, placing his fingers in the proper position. "Now try it again. Go slowly, don't rush."

Muttering beneath his breath, his brows creased in concentration, he moved to pick up a piece of beef.

"AHA! There you go! Success!" she said to him as he brought the piece of meat to his mouth.

How he managed to pout whilst he chewed, she wasn't entirely sure.

"You can't be perfect at everything the moment you try it," she noted. "Surely you didn't master the violin the moment you picked it up! Everything takes a bit of practice."

He let out a humph but managed to eat the rest of his meal without anymore chopstick issues. Once they were finished they were both slightly drunk from both food and Sake, and decided to walk to the nearby Katsura River before returning to their hotel. The night air was cool, and an almost full moon glowed above them.

Sherlock had his arm around Molly's shoulders, and she had hers about his waist. The reached the waters edge and stood there, staring out at the black abyss.

"Shame we can't go swimming," he stated, making her laugh.

"We can go in the pool when we get back to the hotel."

He turned towards her, before dipping his head down and nuzzling at her throat. "Mmmmm … no _p_ e … I intend to take you straight to bed!"

She laughed again before humming quietly as he nibbled on her clavicle. But when his hands began to wander she swatted them away. "Perhaps we should head back?"

He straightened, clearing his throat. "Yes. I think we should."

A little while later they returned to the hotel and Sherlock kept to his word, kissing her soundly as he maneuvered them towards the bed. Their movements were sluggish, due to the Sake, but within time they managed to get each others clothes off. Molly pulled him down onto the bed with her, their kisses growing in passion.

They made love slowly, wanting to draw out each others pleasure. When they at least both reached orgasm, they were somewhat surprised to discover how exhausted they both felt.

"Food coma," she grumbled, as she burrowed her face into his chest.

Sherlock merely grunted, reaching out blindly for the blanket. It was only within a matter of minutes that they were both fast asleep, neither one of them waking until the following morning.

He was the first to wake up, making a rather happy noise when he discovered that she was sprawled out across him. He danced his fingertips down her spinal column, making her squirm slightly, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. His cock began to grow hard and he knew that they wouldn't be leaving the bed before he shagged her at least once more. And it was very clear that she was aware of this fact.

She squirmed again, the hard points of her nipples pressing against his chest as her centre brushed over him. He moved his dancing fingers further downwards, so that he could slip them between her folds.

"Ohhh…" she moaned out.

He was very pleased to discover that she was already quite wet for him. Rolling them onto their sides, he kissed her sweetly as he raised her leg and slid his cock into her. She moaned into his mouth, her hand cupping the cheek of his arse to press him closer. Their bodies rocked together in one fluid movement, as their hands and mouths wandered. When her moans became more desperate he tipped her onto her back and thrust into her as fast and hard as he could. Only moments later she cried out his name, her nails digging into his skin.

He continued to thrust, managing to hiss out a curse as she squeezed his hips with her thighs, making her a tighter fit around him. "Molly!" he groaned out, his cheek pressed against hers as his cock pulsed and twitched inside of her.

They kissed and cuddled through their afterglow before making their way into the bathroom to shower. An hour later they were on their way to the airport to return to London. Both of them managed to sleep throughout the majority of the flight until the pilot spoke over the intercom to announce their approach to Heathrow Airport

Molly breathed out a loud sigh of relief as their plane touched down. She hooked her arm around Sherlock's, peering out the window as she laid her head against his shoulder.

"We're home!" she said to him, and he smiled down at her.

It took them exactly an hour and a half before they arrived outside of Baker Street. Just as they got out of the car and began to gather their luggage, the front door opened and Mrs. Hudson came rushing out, welcoming them home before giving each of them a hug.

"Oh it has been far too quiet without you both in the building!" she said to them. "I am so happy you are back!"

Sherlock eagerly returned her hug, quite pleased to see his landlady.

"Toby wasn't any trouble at all Molly," Mrs. Hudson said to her, "he spent most of the day sleeping just like you said he would. And I've already put him back in your flat; I think he was rather glad to return there."

Molly smiled at her. "Thank you so much for taking care of him while we were gone," she said as the three of them walked into the building.

"Do you two want anything, tea and biscuits perhaps?"

Sherlock shook his head. But before he could open his mouth and say Lord knows what, Molly intervened.

"Thank you, but no," she replied. "I think we just need to settle in. Probably have an early night thanks to jet lag."

Mrs. Hudson nodded knowingly. "Yes, I understand. But be sure to give me a holler if you change your mind and want that cuppa and biscuit!"

They began to make their way up the stairs.

"Sure thing Mrs. Hudson!" Molly called out to her. "And thanks again!"

Sherlock continued to nudge her up the stairs. They entered the flat and were instantly greeted by Toby. Sherlock shut the door behind them, before putting down the luggage he had been carry. Molly had dropped her bags to the floor, scooping Toby into her arms.

"Oh hello my Tobykins! How I have missed you!" she said to him as she buried her face into his fur. The feline purred loudly, a contented look upon his face.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, before reaching out and giving the cat a scratch behind the ears. He then stepped around her and gave the flat his thorough perusal, instantly noting that Mrs. Hudson had dusted. He sniffed faintly, but was satisfied that nothing had appeared to be disturbed. Molly put the cat down and moved towards the kitchen, Toby close at her heels. Sherlock followed them, a smile coming to his face as he leaned against the kitchen table. The sight of her moving about the kitchen, gathering the can of cat food to feed Toby, made his heart flutter.

It _was_ good to be home.

Once she was finished feeding Toby and was standing at the sink washing her hands, Sherlock stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

"How about we put that jet lag to good use?" he mumbled against her shoulder.

She laughed, grabbing a nearby towel to dry her hands. "You want to go to bed already?" she asked flippantly.

He tilted his head and breathed out against her skin. "You know what I mean!"

She gave another laugh. "Of course I do.

"I think we need to re-christen our bed. It has been quite a while since I've made love to you in it!" He began to suckle a mark where her neck met her shoulder.

"You and your insatiable appetite!" she said as she shook her head.

He smiled. "I've yet to hear any complaints." He slipped one of his hands downwards until he was able to cup the apex between her thighs, giving it a slight squeeze and making her moan. With one swift move he lifted her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom.

"Poor Toby," she sighed, as Sherlock kicked the door shut.

He gave a grunt, and laid her down upon the bed. "I'll open the door once we're finished … hmmm?"

She cupped his face in her hands. "I love you."

He smiled and kissed her gently. "I love you too."

He kissed her again but when he tried to pull away she didn't allow it. The kiss deepened as they both blindly undressed each other, briefly parting only for breath and when certain items of clothing required them to. They didn't stop until they were both naked, except for Molly still wearing her pants. Sherlock broke apart the kiss, mouthing his way down her throat. She mewled softly when he reached her breasts and nuzzled them, avoiding her taut nipples until she was practically begging him to take them between his lips. When he did she gave a cry of delight, it ending in a moan as he sucked and swirled his tongue around the tender nubs. He didn't stop until they were both slightly red, before dipping his head to nibble at the soft underside of each of her breasts.

A happy sigh escaped her as he continued downwards, nipping and suckling at her skin, not stopping until he reached her knickers. It was then that he reared back slightly, and she opened her eyes to peer down at him.

"What exactly is the purpose of these ridiculous bows?" Sherlock glared at the offending decoration on her knickers, causing her to giggle. Then suddenly his eyes lit up excitedly. "I think I've discovered it!" He bit down on one of the bows and gave it a tug, slipping the fabric down off of her hip.

She raised herself slightly, helping him in his effort to remove her pants. Once they were fully off he tossed them to the side, landing who knows where, but neither one of them fully cared at the moment. He settled himself once more between her legs and spread her slick folds with his thumbs, revealing her pink, glistening sex, as the scent of her arousal flooded his nostrils.

"Oh Sherlock!" she moaned, even though he had as of yet to put his mouth or tongue on her.

Glancing up at her he was pleased to discover that her eyes were once more squeezed shut in anticipation of what he was going to do to her. With a wicked a smile he leaned his head down, not once taking his gaze from her face, and gave her clit the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue.

"Ahhh!"

His smile grew even more wicked as he teased her clit yet again.

"Please! Oh please! Oh please!" she cried. "Sherlock please!"

"Mmm … please what?"

She whimpered faintly before opening her eyes and meeting his steady gaze. "I want your mouth on my clit," she stated in a determined tone.

Her eyes widened, her lips forming a perfect 'o' as he dropped his mouth down upon her and did just that. She screamed out his name, her back arching slightly, her head thrown against the pillow as he began to suck on her clit noisily; her orgasm continuing to rocket through her veins.

In spite of being practically on cloud nine she managed to be able to sense that he was moving his hand further inward. Knowing what he was about to do, she reached out to stop him.

"Please! I only want to be filled by your cock!" she told him.

He pulled away from her, sitting up as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Come here you," she said as she held her arms out.

Sherlock slid his body over hers, his cock falling hard and heavy between her legs. A moan escaped each of them before they kissed. It deepened, growing in passion as she spread her legs further apart so that he could settle himself more comfortably.

"Ohhh … that's it!" she purred as he slipped his cock into her wet heat. "Mmmmm!"

They kissed once more as she locked her ankles across his lower back, and held tightly onto his shoulders as he began to thrust.

"Oh Molly!" he groaned. "Fuck! Why do you feel so good?"

She could only mewl in reply as he gave a particularly hard and deep thrust. He buried his face in her neck, continuing to groan loudly, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the incredible sensation of her tight heat surrounding him.

Their bodies rocked together in a rhythm that was truly their own. And when her cries began to grow more frantic, her nails digging into his shoulders, he knew to quicken his pace.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she encouraged, the only other sound in the room being that of flesh upon flesh as he thrust into her as hard and as fast as he could. "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! SHERLOCK!" Stars formed before her eyes, her legs trembling from the sheer force of her orgasm.

"Fuck Molly, ohhhh!" He only managed one last thrust, before the tightening and fluttering of her walls encasing his cock sent him over the edge. He fell against her, unable to keep himself up, but she honestly didn't mind.

She let out a satisfied hum, brushing her nose against the shell of his ear. "Mmmm … welcome home indeed!"

Sherlock managed to let out a chuckle, before pressing his lips to the side of her neck. They stayed locked in each other's embrace for several more moments, until he had managed to obtain the majority of his mental faculties and rolled off of her. Minutes passed as they lay side by side.

"Shower?" she enquired, but he shook his head.

"No point when I'm intending to make love to you at least once more!"

She laughed. "Well then, perhaps we should have something to eat?"

He shrugged. "I suppose. We can get a takeaway."

Molly scrunched up her nose. "I'd rather something homemade. We've been eating out so much lately."

"Eating out indeed," he growled as he rolled onto his side and tugged her closer to him.

She gave him a playful little swat. "You are such a dirty man!"

"Oh yes, I am positively filthy, perhaps you should help clean me up?"

She giggled, it ending in a delighted hum as he moved onto his back and pulled her on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest. He kissed her deeply, slipping his hands down to cup at her bottom. It wasn't until her stomach growled loudly that they pulled apart.

"I suppose food would be a good idea before we continue," he noted, and she nodded in agreement.

They both got up from the bed, briefly cleaning themselves up in the bathroom, before each pulled on a dressing gown and walked out of the bedroom. Toby was sprawled out on the floor, blocking the doorway. She lifted him into her arms, cuddling him as they moved towards the kitchen.

"Do you think we have anything edible?" she asked.

Sherlock gave her a look that clearly stated that he was the worst person to put such a question to.

"Perhaps we have some cans of soup." She settled Toby onto the floor and moved towards the cabinets as Sherlock sat down at the table. "You're not going to look?" she asked him.

"Why bother? I know we don't have anything."

Molly moved towards the refrigerator and opened it. "Uh huh. Well, my darling that is where you are wrong!" She turned, revealing a carton of eggs and a large chunk of cheese. "How about scrambled eggs and cheese toasties?" she suggested, as she nodded her head towards a loaf of bread that was sat upon the counter.

"That sounds good to me."

A short while later they were both sat upon the sofa, Molly's legs draped across Sherlock's lap as they ate their meal.

"Why does cheese and bread have to taste so delicious?" she wondered aloud.

Sherlock shrugged, sneaking a bite of hers. "Dunno," he mumbled between chews. "It just does."

She glared at him and he smiled cheekily in return. "You have your own!"

"Yours tastes better."

She huffed. "They're exactly the same."

"No _p_ e!" he declared, popping the p obnoxiously. "Yours tastes better."

She shook her head, leaning away from him so that he couldn't steal anymore bites. Once they were finished they put their plates on the coffee table and proceeded to snuggle on the sofa, giving their food a bit of time to settle.

"I really don't want to deal with unpacking!" she stated suddenly with a huge pout, as she looked over at their suitcases.

"Then don't."

"Oh, I'm not going to right now, I have full intentions of returning to bed, but it's just the fact that I'll have to eventually. I hate unpacking. Almost as much as I hate packing."

"What was that you said about returning to bed?" he questioned, making her giggle.

"Sherlock!" she shrieked when he suddenly stood, lifting her in his arms. "We just ate!"

"So? We'll take things slowly." He carried her back to their bedroom, as she sighed.

The next morning Molly groaned as the alarm on her phone blared loudly. She reached out and switched it off, before falling back against her pillow and blinking sleepily as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Why did I agree to go in to work today?" she wailed.

Sherlock gave a grunt before rolling over and curling himself around her. "I did tell you to take today off," he noted, his voice rumbling against her neck.

She twisted herself so that she was facing him; he let out a delighted hum as she became pressed up against his body.

"I've had too much time off already, what with our wedding, and honeymoon, and the trip to China and Japan!"

He nuzzled her shoulder. "So? What of it? What's one more day?"

"You just want me to stay home so that we can spend the day in bed together!" she said to him before biting down on his earlobe.

After letting out a yelp he repeated, "So? What of it?"

This resulted in making her laugh.

"No. I'm going to work. And John will be coming over in a bit to look through your emails to see if there are any good cases. Remember? You made those plans before we left Japan."

He made a sound of annoyance, before letting out a slow sigh. "Yes I remember. I just thought that it would be worth trying to convince you to stay in bed. Although …" He pinned her down into the mattress, his body fully on top of hers.

"Sherlock no!' she cried, beating at his chests with her fists, trying her hardest to fight back a smile. "We're not having a morning shag! I'll be late!"

He muttered a few words beneath his breath, before saying, "Shower shag?"

She gave his nipple a pinch. "Unbelievable!"

"Is that a yes?"

It was her turn to mutter beneath her breath. He smiled wolfishly.

"You're practically soaked already," he stated. He snuck his hand down between them, slipping his thumb between her folds. "It would be a shame to let such delicious lubrication go to waste." He brought his hand up to his mouth, sucking his thumb clean of her juices.

"I hate you so much sometimes," she growled out.

"And you are a horrible liar."

With a loud huff she gave him a non-too-gentle shove. He reared back, allowing her to slip out from beneath him. She moved off of the bed and made her way towards the bathroom. Just as she reached the door she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder.

"Well? Aren't you coming?" she asked.

He jumped up from the bed. "Oh yes, I most certainly am, but not until I am buried deep inside of you!"

They didn't manage to actually _shower_ until nearly all of the hot water had run out. Sherlock sprawled himself across the bed, wearing nothing but a towel as he watched her rush and dash about the room. She dressed in the bathroom, much to his annoyance, and when she came out he saw that she had brushed her damp hair up into a tight, smooth bun.

"You look like a librarian," he told her. "Especially with your glasses."

She was wearing them because she couldn't be bothered with her contacts that day. She smiled as she slipped on a pair of flats. He reached out for her, sitting up so that he could press a kiss to her lips.

"A rather sexy librarian," he added, making her smile widen.

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant to be one." He kissed her again.

"Have fun today, maybe there will be a 9! Or an 8 at least."

He grunted. "My inbox is most likely full of trivial 3's and 4's." He sighed dramatically as he lay back down, making her roll her eyes.

"You should get dressed; John will be arriving any minute."

Sherlock let out another grunt. "Let him wait. He's used to it."

She reached out and gave his hair a ruffle. "I'll see you tonight."

"Mmm … perhaps sooner if one of the cases brings us to Barts." He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on top of it.

"That would be nice."

He held onto her hand.

"Sherlock, I need to go."

He sighed and released her hand.

"I love you!" she called out as she left their bedroom.

"Love you too," he replied, amazed with how easily the words left his lips. The things she had done to him, changed in him. He couldn't help but smile at the thought.

He could hear the sound of the flat door closing, her footsteps on the stairs and then the front door opening and closing. He sighed again, but then his ears perked up when he heard the front door opening again. For a brief moment he thought that she had returned, but then he realized that it was an entirely different sort of gait that was making its way up the stairs. John had arrived.

Three hours later Molly was rubbing at her tired eyes, silently cursing her jet lag, and the fact that she had two more hours left to her shift. All in all though it had been a fairly easy day; there had only been one autopsy for her to perform and the rest of her time had been spent updating paperwork. Tedious, but it allowed her to relax.

Sherlock hadn't come to Barts, in fact, she hadn't heard from him at all that day. But she considered this to be a good thing, hoping that he had found some decent cases to keep him occupied. She knew that he was just itching to return to "the work".

Suddenly her text tone chirped, and for a brief moment she thought that it would perhaps be Sherlock, but it wasn't, it was Mary.

 _Want to come to ours for dinner tonight? –_ MW

 _It'll beat getting a takeaway, and you won't have to worry about the washing up. I am sure you are both still exhausted from that blasted jet lag._ – MW

Molly smiled as she read the texts.

 _I'd love to. –_ Mx

 _Has John said anything to Sherlock?_ – Mx

Molly waited a few moments as Mary typed out a reply.

 _Was just about to text him._ –MW

 _Ok. I haven't heard from Sherlock all day. I'll text him as well._ – Mx

The two of them proceeded to contact their husbands.

 _Mary is offering to cook dinner for us. You interested? –_ Mx

Instead of receiving a text as a reply, she got a verbal one.

"Must we?"

Molly let out a shriek, her phone dropping onto her desk as her head snapped up. "Sherlock!"

He smiled faintly as he stood in the doorway. "Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you really not want to go there tonight?"

He stepped further into her office. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'd rather be at home with you," he replied.

"It's just dinner. We don't have to stay long. Mary knows we're both tired."

"I'm not tired."

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a look. "Yes you are."

He huffed out a breath. "I suppose if it's just for the meal, it will be fine."

"You'll be able to see your goddaughter."

That brought a smile to his face. "Ahh … yes I would. Fine. Tell Mary we'll have dinner with them."

Molly stood up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I have a later shift tomorrow. You can shag me all morning long, if you like."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmmm …"

"Good to know," he tipped his head forward and kissed her deeply.

"Cases going well?" she asked once they separated.

"Yes. For the most part. The majority of my inbox was rather full of nonsense, but there are two that prove promising. I only stopped by to say hello." He kissed her again. "John is waiting for me outside." He gave her another kiss. "Your lips really need to stop looking so inviting." And another kiss.

She pushed him away. "Go you silly man! Go and solve your cases!" she said with a laugh.

He gave her one final kiss before leaving her office. She continued to chuckle to herself as she sat back down at her desk and tried to make her brain focus on the papers before her.

Two hours later she was gathering her things and making her way upstairs. She took her mobile out of her pocket and sent off a quick text to Mary.

 _Just leaving Barts now. Need me to pick anything up on the way? –_ Mx

 _Only if there is a specific type of wine you'd like. Ta. -_ MW

Molly walked out of the hospital and hailed a cab; once she was settled in and gave the driver the address she sent a text to Sherlock.

 _How's the case going? I'm on my way to John and Mary's._ \- Mx

 _Both cases are solved. Pathetically easily. On our way as well. –_ SH

She sighed as she read his text. "Oh dear," she murmured before deciding to text John.

 _Is he in a strop_? – Mx

 _Surprisingly, no._ – JW

She let out a breath a relief. After popping in to Tesco's and buying a bottle of wine she got another cab and continued on to the Watson's. By the time she arrived at their flat, Sherlock and John were already there. John took the wine into the kitchen as Sherlock helped her out of her coat.

"So the cases weren't any good?" she asked him.

He gave a shrug. "I would have preferred a murder, but they were tolerable enough."

She eyed him suspiciously, and he quailed beneath her gaze.

"What?" he asked, slightly snappish.

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth.

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

When she only giggled he gave a low growl.

"Molly!" he said in a warning tone, making her giggle all the more.

"Sex has completely addled your brain!" she stated.

He scoffed at such a thought.

"It has! Normally you would be in a foul mood without any good cases, but right now you're not! And I know exactly why!"

She stepped closer to him, slipping her arms up around his neck as he tried his hardest to appear annoyed by her deduction. She placed a kiss on his chin before giving his bottom lip a nibble.

"Sherlock Holmes, the World's Only Consulting Detective, would prefer to be shagging his wife into the mattress instead of gallivanting about London solving crimes. Hmmmm … I suppose I should admit that I am rather flattered."

He breathed out of his nose. "It's entirely your fault." He pouted. "Your body is so delectable."

She giggled again.

"Oi you two! Do you want to eat or not?" John's voice called out to them.

Molly placed a gentle kiss upon Sherlock's lips then stepped away from him, walking towards the kitchen.

The combination of a home cooked meal, a couple of glasses of wine, and jet lag proved to be a rather draining combination. Molly could see that Sherlock was in desperate need of a good sleep, in spite of him trying his hardest to hide the fact. But his usual enthusiasm with his goddaughter was not there.

After thanking Mary for cooking dinner, Sherlock and Molly made their way home to Baker Street. Sherlock went straight into their bedroom, as Molly fed Toby his evening meal. By the time she walked into their room Sherlock was already beneath the sheets. She could see that his eyes were heavy with the need for sleep.

"Naked," he said to her suddenly as she moved to go into the bathroom.

"Hmmm?" she asked.

"Come to bed naked," he told her.

She laughed. "All right."

Once she had brushed her teeth, she undressed, switched off the light and stepped back into the bedroom. A quiet snore came from the direction of the bed, and she had to fight back a giggle. It wasn't often that he snored, but when he did it always made her laugh. Except for when it would wake her up in the middle of the night, then she would hit him with her pillow.

She slipped beneath the sheet, sighing happily as the coolness of the fabric moved over her skin. Sherlock mumbled something, before moving onto his side, reaching blindly out for her. She scooted closer, and when his hand made contact he made a happy noise and pulled her to him. He made another happy noise when her skin made contact with his.

"Want you," he grumbled, "but too sleepy."

She chuckled quietly, moving her fingers through his curls before gently massaging his scalp; she almost expected him to start purring. It took only minutes for the pair of them to fall asleep.

Molly didn't wake until the following morning, as small shafts of sunlight drifted in from the window. Sherlock was still fast asleep beside her. She lay there quietly, watching him, noting how peaceful he looked. It was then that a rather wicked idea came to her.

Biting down on her bottom lip she slowly sat up and began to gently remove the sheet from his body. He stayed asleep, his steady breathing unchanging. She waited a few moments, wanting to make sure that the air touching his skin hadn't woken him. Once she was certain she moved herself over him, straddling his knees and drank in the sight of his naked form. His penis lay flaccid against his thigh and she leaned down to give it a solid lick from tip to base.

He groaned, his body giving a faint twitch as she slipped her hand beneath his shaft so that she could take the head between her lips. He groaned again and she glanced up at him as she swirled her tongue over and around him. He was awake now, staring down at her, his lips faintly parted and his chest rising and falling heavily as she continued to suck on him.

"Oh fuck Molly!" he hissed out as she took in more of his length.

She didn't stop until he was fully hard and he was fisting the sheets. After releasing him with a soft pop, she slid her body upwards, took his cock in her hand and positioned him at her entrance.

With a low mewl she sank down onto him, taking him in until his bollocks were pressed against the globes of her arse. "Oh yes!" she moaned.

He reached out and cupped her breasts, massaging her nipples as she began to ride him.

"So good! So good!" she told him, taking his cock deep each time that she sank back down.

When she suddenly tilted back slightly he knew that it was an invitation to stroke at her clit. Releasing one of her breasts he smoothed his hand down her rib cage, over her stomach and reached the taut pearl that was beckoning to him.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried as he swirled his thumb over her clit in tiny circles. "AHHH!"

Her walls contracted around his cock, making him moan as her body shook slightly. Her orgasm coursed through her, her movements growing still. He gave her a minute to recover, before sitting up and moving her onto her back, not once breaking their connection.

After placing her legs onto his shoulders, he cupped her bottom and began to thrust, gifting himself the perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of her tight, pink sex.

"Oh Sherlock, that feels wonderful!" she encouraged, sliding her hands up to her breasts to toy and pinch at her nipples.

He cursed beneath his breath, increasing the pace of his thrusts. "Come with me Molly," he said to her, moving his hand to her inner thigh so that he could stroke her clit once more.

"Oh! Fuck yeah! Oh my God! Ahhhh! Ahh! SHERLOCK!"

He came with a wild shout, delving into her as deep as he could go, his cock pulsing as her walls fluttered around him. His mind blanked out for several moments, before everything came rushing back. After lowering her legs to the mattress, he collapsed down beside her, breathing heavily.

She smiled at him, adoring the fact that he looked positively wrecked. She smoothed her hand across his flushed cheek, before moving it up to his curls. He closed his eyes, a small smile upon his lips.

Once they had both somewhat recovered he moved himself over her and kissed her deeply. Her hands cupped his arse, digging her nails into him slightly.

"Did you enjoy being woken up like that?" she questioned him, an impish twinkle in her gaze.

He bit down on her bottom lip. "I did, you minx. I think I may have to return the favour some morning."

Minutes passed as they continued to kiss, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"When do you need to be at Barts?" he questioned suddenly.

"Mmmmm … not until three!"

"Aha … perfect, because I am not done with you yet." He slipped downwards, avoiding her breasts all together.

"But Sherlock! I haven't …" her voiced trailed off before she could say 'cleaned myself up…' because of the look he gave her.

"I like tasting us together," he stated, before giving her seam a quick lick. "And I love the feeling of your clit." He slipped his tongue between her folds, lapping at the tender bud.

"Oh fuck Sherlock!"

He chuckled, the vibrations sending a shudder through her body, her thighs shaking slightly against his head. Slipping a finger inside of her, he turned and tilted his hand so that it was palm upward before he moved his finger in a come hither motion.

"AHHHH!"

He suckled her clit, continuing the movement of his finger until she cried out her release. Upon giving her clit a final kiss he removed his finger and sucked it clean of her juices. Molly lay back against the pillow, deliciously spent. Sherlock moved upwards and settled his head between her breasts, nuzzling her skin with his nose. They dozed for a little while, until her fingers brushed against his cock. She stroked him until he grew hard and heavy in her hand.

He proceeded to make love to her slowly, pressing her thigh to his hip, so that he could enter her at just the right angle. They both moaned between kisses, enjoying the pleasure that their joined bodies were creating. When he took one of her nipples into his mouth, and circled it with his tongue, her orgasm began to crest. She moaned out his name, clutching tightly to his shoulders.

He rode out her orgasm, keeping a steady pace of smooth thrusts, only to bite out a curse when she suddenly reached between them to fondle his bollocks. He came with a shout, burying his face against her neck. They lay side by side, satiated and spent. After another short doze, they got up and made their way into the kitchen to search out something to eat and to have a cuppa. As they drank their tea and ate their toast, she sat upon his lap.

"Perhaps today you'll have better luck with finding a good case. Maybe Lestrade will have something for you," she said to him.

Sherlock let out a sniff of disdain. "The likelihood of that happening is slim. It appears that the criminal class has gone on holiday."

She shook her head, moving her hand up and down the back of his neck, massaging his nape with her fingers. "You never know, you might get a murder or two."  
He kissed her. They didn't manage to make it back into the bedroom; instead he bent her over the table and took her from behind, their tea cups rattling with each of his thrusts. When they did return to their bed it was to sleep, this time for an hour. Upon waking they got into the shower and managed to get clean with hot water.

Sherlock dressed himself in a pair of pyjama bottoms, a ratty t-shirt and dressing gown before settling down into his chair with his laptop. Molly came out of their bedroom, plaiting her hair.

"Ouch!" she cried out suddenly.

He looked up and saw that she had walked into their luggage which was still by the door.

"Blasted suitcase," she grumbled as she gave it a little kick before she continued passed it into the kitchen.

Sherlock side-eyed her but didn't say anything as he continued to type.

"I won't be home until late, so I'll be eating in the canteen," she said to him as she filled a glass up with water. "I know you won't eat anything if you find a case, but if you don't please do eat something. Even if you have to go down to Mrs. Hudson's and beg out of her a sandwich."

He rolled his eyes but she knew that he would do as she said. She returned to their bedroom, coming out moments later wearing her cherry cardigan on, and her bag on her shoulder. She walked up to him and he leaned back so that she could give him a kiss.

"See you tonight."

He nodded.

"I suppose I'll have to tackle those suitcases when I get home."

He gave a nonchalant hum in agreement as she walked towards the door.

"Bye Toby!" she called out before leaving the flat.

Sherlock shook his head but couldn't stop himself from smiling.

Molly's day turned out to be a rather hectic one, with five autopsies that required extensive paper work. By the time her shift was over she was entirely beat and couldn't wait to get home.

She hadn't heard from Sherlock all day, but when she looked at her phone she realized that it was because she had silenced it and with being so busy she had never gotten a chance to check it. There were three texts from him, but they had not been sent until recently.

 _Lestrade found me a case._ – SH

 _A very possible 9. Might even be a 10._ – SH

 _May not be home until late._ – SH

She smiled as she read his messages.

 _Go kick their arses! -_ Mx

His reply came seconds later.

 _Tired?_ \- SH

She laughed, not remotely surprised that he knew.

 _Yes. Exhausted._ – Mx

 _Have a glass of wine and take a bath._ \- SH

She smiled, and waited to send a reply until after she had gotten a cab. Once settled in, and making her way towards Baker Street she sent the text.

 _Sounds like a good idea. Thanks, I think I will. Love you, and good luck._ – Mx

 _Love you too. I'll see you soon._ \- SH

Molly closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushion, nearly asleep when the cab pulled up outside of the flat. She slowly climbed the stairs, yawning as she made her way inside. Toby meowed happily at her, rubbing against her heels. When she leaned down to give him a pet she noticed something was different.

"Oh! The suitcases are gone!" She looked about the room, thinking that perhaps Sherlock had moved them, but when she got into their bedroom she realized that he had unpacked and put everything away. Tears filled her eyes at the thoughtfulness of his actions.

"Hoo hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called out from the sitting room.

Molly quickly wiped at her eyes, and hurried down the hall.

"Hello dear, just wanted to check up on you, and see if you needed a little snack or some tea perhaps. Late shifts are always a bit of a bother!"

Molly smiled. "No thank you, Mrs. Hudson, I'm quite all right. I ate at Barts. I think I'm just going to have a soak in the tub before going to bed."

"All right then, just wanted to make sure." She started to leave.

"Oh! Mrs. Hudson? You didn't happen to give Sherlock any help with the unpacking did you?"

The elderly woman smiled widely. "No Molly dear, I didn't. Sherlock did all that himself. I was quite astonished to be completely honest, but he almost seemed to be enjoying himself. I really don't think I'll ever understand him, I definitely have a few things I wish to discuss with his mother!"

Molly kept silent as Mrs. Hudson left the flat, closing the door behind her. She took her mobile out of her pocket, moving into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. He had clearly prepared for her. A bottle of wine was sat upon the table with a bottle opener and a glass beside it.

 _Who are you and what have you done with the real Sherlock Holmes?_ \- Mx

She was certain she could hear him chuckling as he read her text.

 _I can't believe you did all the unpacking!_ \- Mx

 _The idea came to me when you walked into the suitcase this morning. And I knew you'd be tired when you came home after your shift._ – SH

 _Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I'll show you how thankful I am when you are finished with your case ;) -_ Mx

It might be considered cruel to make him hot under the collar when he was 'busy' but she couldn't help it. She did so love to tease him and the git had done it plenty of times to her! She waited a few moments to see if he would reply, thinking that he was probably buffering. After letting out a giggle she opened the bottle of wine, poured herself a glass and made her way into the bathroom.

Two glasses of wine later, and an hour long soak in the tub, she slipped on one of his t-shirts, foregoing knickers and snuggled down into their bed. A happy sigh escaped her as she hugged his pillow to her chest before breathing in the scent of him. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

The next morning she woke to an empty bed and a quiet flat. She had another late shift ahead of her so she decided to use her time wisely and go food shopping. When she returned, the flat was still empty, and she hadn't received any texts from Sherlock.

Once the food was put away she took a quick shower and got dressed for work. There were still no texts as she made her way to Barts, but she was used to this. If the case was good, she would be fed radio silence. At times it did bother her, but early on in their relationship she had agreed that he would always text her first, so that there was no chance of distraction or disruption. A little niggle of worry never failed to make its way into her brain though.

Her shift managed to be another busy one, which helped to take her mind off of lack of conversation from Sherlock. She was quietly humming to herself, looking over the paperwork of the body of the John Doe she was about to take out of cold storage, when her mobile began to ring. She muttered a curse beneath her breath, annoyed at herself for having forgotten to turn it back on to vibrate. She fished her mobile out of her lab coat pocket and looked at the screen. The caller was Lestrade, and she could only presume that he was calling her to let her know of a body that he would be sending in for her. She swiped her thumb over the screen to answer it.

"Hi Greg!" she said cheerfully.

"Ahhh Molly ..." His voice sounded oddly strained, sending a sinking feeling straight through her core. "There's been an accident."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat* heh ... it's official now, isn't it. You hate me, don't you? 
> 
> Well ... guess what. I am trying my hardest to get Chapter 44 finished because I don't like being cruel. I would be flipping my shit right now if I was reading this fic and had to wait who knows how long for the next installment. So please, take a deep breath, within the coming week I truly hope to have 44 ready and posted :) 
> 
> I love you all, my beautiful readers. Please do leave a comment, they make my day!


	44. There's Been an Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't too horribly of a long wait, right?
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will come fairly quickly too ... we shall see ;)
> 
> Anyway ... there's a few trigger warnings for this chapter as well:
> 
> *****Mentions of drugs and suicide, but nothing explicitly detailed*****
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies!

* * *

"Ahhh Molly ... there's been an accident," Greg said to her, his voice strained.

"What happened?" Her hands were starting to shake as she struggled with one to put down the papers she was holding, and with the other to hold her mobile to her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Sherlock was chasing the suspect through an abandoned warehouse, and the floor collapsed beneath him. He fell ... he fell two floors."

She sucked in a breath. "Is he all right? Is he ..." She couldn't manage to get out the word _'alive'._

"He's alive, Jesus, sorry, yes he's alive! But he broke his leg. He was just put into an ambulance; he's on his way to Barts now."

She placed her hand onto the nearby examination table, in an attempt to steady herself. "And John? Is John ok?"

"Yes, he was quite a few steps behind Sherlock; he managed to avoid the fall. He's in the ambulance with him. I just thought it would be best if I were the one to let you know."

"Tha-thank you Greg, I'll head up now so I can be there when they arrive." She rang off, only to clutch her mobile to her chest as she struggled to breathe.

It took her several moments to calm herself down. She had always been well aware of the fact that his job was a dangerous one, but she had also not allowed herself to take into consideration that it could be truly life-threatening. He had already cheated death twice, who was to say that he couldn't do so again, and again, and again? After quickly wiping away the two tears that had managed to fall down her cheeks, she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out before making her way upstairs to the ICU.

Although Barts no longer had an A&E department, she knew that Sherlock would have made a fuss about being brought to any other hospital. She sent off a quick text to Mary, and received a reply almost instantly, which let her know that she was on her way, and was bringing Emily with her. When Molly got to the ICU she spoke to the nurse at reception, who told her that she would inform her as soon as her husband arrived.

And so, Molly waited.

Fifteen minutes later the nurse called out to her just as Mary walked into the waiting room with little Emily in her arms. Molly beckoned to her and they both approached the receptionist desk.

"Molly, your husband just arrived and they took him straight away into surgery," the nurse said to her. "And Dr. Watson is being currently looked over, but should be released shortly."

Molly gave a silent nod as Mary placed her hand on her arm and led her over to a nearby chair. Once they were settled, Mary tucked her arm more securely around her daughter before placing her other arm around Molly.

"I'm sure someone will have more info for you soon," Mary said to her.

Molly gave another silent nod.

"As it would so happen, there is more information."

Both Mary and Molly looked up rapidly to find Mycroft standing before them.

"Sherlock has a broken Tibia and a broken Fibula, but thankfully they were clean breaks, although both bones tore through the skin, hence the need for immediate surgery," Mycroft explained to them.

Molly covered her mouth with her hand, wishing that she could be in the room with him. She knew she wouldn't be any help, and would only be in the way, but she couldn't stop herself from wanting to be there so that she could hold his hand.

Mycroft sat down beside her just as John entered the room. Mary jumped to her feet and rushed towards him. He took his wife and daughter into his arms holding them close, murmuring to Mary that he was "quite all right."

"He'll make it through this Molly," Mycroft spoke softly to her.

She nodded. "I know. I just can't help but think back to the last time he was in hospital … when he nearly … _died_."

Mycroft put his arm around her, a gesture rather uncommon for him, but not in regards to Molly. "This is an entirely different situation," he stated. "You have a medical mind; you know this to be true."

She nodded again, wiping fiercely at her cheeks as tears began to pour out. "I know. I'm just being silly." She sniffled.

"You aren't. Not in the slightest. No one ever wants to hear that someone they love is in pain."

She leaned against him. "Thank you Mycroft. You've had to endure so much … because of him. I can only hope that I can be as strong as you."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "My dear Molly, you are far stronger than you'll ever know."

It was an agonizingly long wait, but at last they were told that he was in recovery and that the surgery had gone well.

Mary, John and little Emily left shortly after hearing the news. Emily had become fussy and was in desperate need of her bed, but neither John nor Mary had wanted to leave until they knew that he was all right.

Due to an overly full recovery room Mycroft and Molly had to wait until Sherlock had been placed in his own room. Mycroft had assured that he would be getting the very best. A half hour later they were at last able to go and see him.

Molly told Mycroft that he could go in and speak to him first. He was going to argue with her, but then realized that she was quite overcome with emotion and that perhaps she preferred Sherlock to only be witness. He was with him for only a few minutes, not wanting to prolong her separation from him.

When Mycroft left the room he gave her a swift nod. "He's quite all right, a bit sluggish because of the morphine but he is anxious to see you. Go on in, and you can stay the night if you wish to, all has been arranged."

She threw her arms around him, giving him a quick hug that threw him slightly off his balance. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Molly … go … your husband is waiting for you."

She stepped back, a blush coming to her cheeks. "Sorry … about that."

"It's quite all right." He gave her a nudge towards his room.

She opened the door and stepped in side, gently closing it behind her. Sherlock was laid out upon the bed, his leg in a large white cast. He looked pale, paler than usual, but he was smiling at her. Before she could stop herself she ran to the bed, flung her arms about his neck and began to sob into his chest.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, rather surprised by her emotional outburst.

It took her several moments to calm herself down enough so that she could sit up.

"I'm sorry Sherlock," she apologized between sniffles as she reached out for a tissue from the nearby box. "It's just … seeing you lying here like this; it brought back the memories of ..." She wiped her eyes. "I can't bear to lose you Sherlock."

He slipped his arm about her and gave her a gentle nudge forward. She took a moment to realize what he wanted then carefully stretched herself out along side him, before snuggling against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

" _I'm_ sorry for worrying you," he said gently. "It was a stupid thing I did and I realize that. And from now on, I'm going to be more careful. I need to be if I intend to grow old with you."

She tipped her head back and their lips met. When they parted she laid her head back down upon his chest and said to him, "I'm amazed that all you ended up with was a broken Tibia and Fibula … that was quite a distance you fell!"

"Would you be surprised if I told you that these are my first broken bones?" he asked her, as he nuzzled her hair with his nose.

"Is it? I find that hard to believe. I've always pictured you as a little boy running about your parent's property, climbing trees and defending them from enemy pirates."

He chuckled. "Oh, I did plenty of that. I was just smart enough and knew my limits; to an extent. Just ask Mycroft how many times he had to affix a plaster to my scraped up knees."

She laughed softly, smoothing her hand over his chest. "Your poor mother, what hell you must have put her through."

He sniffed. "It wasn't until I was older that that truly happened."

She tightened her arm around him, and he let out a slow breath.

"You deserve to be given the title of Dame for attaching yourself to a man such as me," he stated bitterly.

"Sherlock … don't be so glib, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I married you."

He huffed out a sigh. "And I don't think that I will ever stop wondering as to why you didn't run away. Screaming no less."

She shook her head. "Oh ye of little faith … it was because I saw your heart. You have such a big, glorious one!"

"All the better to love you with, my dear."

She sat up, cupped the side of his face in her hand and kissed him soundly. "I think perhaps I should lessen your morphine just a tad … it's making you go all sentimental."

"Shut up …" he growled, but he was smiling. Then a wicked gleam came to his eyes. "My heart isn't the only _big_ thing I love you with."

She gave his chest a slap. "Behave! You're in hospital with a broken leg; we'll have none of that. At least not for some time yet."

He pouted.

"I should probably get off the bed, I don't really want to have any nurses or doctors come in and see me like this." She sat in the chair beside the bed.

"See you like what?" he asked.

"It's not protocol."

He rolled his eyes. "You're my wife Molly. Hang protocol!"

She giggled. "Mycroft said that I can stay the night, that it's all been 'arranged', whatever that means."

Sherlock smirked. "It means that he'll have a bed sent in for you. And that there won't be any unnecessary visits from doctors and nurses."

"Oh."

He sighed. "I'm sure he told Mummy and Dad. They'll most likely be here tomorrow." He grimaced. "Once again they have to come visit me in hospital." He fiddled with the sheet for a moment. "I swear to you Molly, I will change my ways. I've caused enough people grief to last a whole other lifetime."

She returned to the bed, kissing him soundly. "Get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up."

He nodded, his eyelids already beginning to grow heavy. Within a matter of seconds he was fast asleep. She watched him for a little while then quietly crept from the room, standing just outside the door so that she could send a quick text to Mrs. Hudson, to let her know of the current situation. Apparently though, Mycroft was five steps ahead of her, having already informed the elderly landlady. She assured her that she would take good care of Toby, and that she would come to visit Sherlock in a day or two.

She was about to go back into the room when a nurse came down the hall pushing a folded up bed. She held the door open for the nurse and she wheeled it in. The nurse, whose name was Ellie, unfolded the bed and took out a pillow and two blankets from a cupboard, and gave them to Molly before speaking quietly to her.

"Dr. Richardson will be coming to check on him within the hour, but after that the two of you won't be disturbed for the rest of the evening. We have a monitor outside to keep track of his vitals."

"Thank you," Molly said to her.

"Do you need anything?" Elise asked, and Molly shook her head. "There's a coffee machine down the hall, and you're well aware of where the canteen is."

Elise left, and Molly placed the pillow and blankets upon the bed before she sat down. Sherlock snored softly, twitching ever so faintly now and then. She watched him for a few moments then jumped when the door suddenly opened.

Molly recognized Dr. Richardson straight away, having seen him at previous Barts Christmas parties. She had always thought him to be a bit of a prat. He approached her with a warm smile.

"Your husband is doing very well Molly, the breaks were clean and there weren't any issues during the surgery. He'll have the cast for some months though, and will need to keep off of the leg for a bit at first. I know he's used to rushing about London, but he's going to need to accept the fact that he will be homebound for quite sometime."

She nodded, feeling rather certain that the coming months were going to be interesting ones.

"We have him on a morphine drip, but it's regulated to control the dose."

Her expression hardened, knowing exactly to what he was implying. "Thank you," she bit out, not caring if she was appearing rude.

"Well ahhh … at least he can't escape this time," he gave a snorting laugh.

"Is that all?" she asked, not joining him in the laughter.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. The nurse's station down the hall will be able to track his vitals, but there are really no worries. He should sleep most of the night."

Molly gave a swift nod. "Good, thank you."

Dr. Richardson left and she gave a great sigh of relief.

"That man is an idiot."

She jumped slightly, having thought that Sherlock was still asleep. She looked at him; he was peering at her with half-closed eyes.

"For the most part, yes he is," she admitted. She slowly approached his bed. "Go back to sleep, you need your rest. I'll be right here."

He gave a low hum, his eyes falling closed. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you," she whispered softly.

"Love you too."

After lowering the lights she sat down upon her bed and toed off her shoes. She continued to watch him sleep, sending out a silent hope that she would have the patience to endure what the next few months would surely bring.

* * *

Molly woke with a start, momentarily discombobulated. It was morning, and it was very clear to her that she was not in her bed, nor was she in Baker Street. She sat up, groaning quietly as everything flooded back to her. Sherlock was awake, had been for some time, but had occupied himself with watching her sleep.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she took her mussed up hair from its half pony tail, before quickly swooping it up into a messy bun.

"Groggy," he replied.

She stood and walked over to him. He held his arm out to her and she sat upon his bed. They kissed, briefly.

"You look better, not quite so pale," she noted. "How's the pain?"

He grimaced. "Throbbing."

She looked over at the morphine drip and fiddled with the button for a moment. "Better?"

He sighed slowly, feeling it enter his blood stream. "Yes."

"A nurse will probably be in soon. You need to eat something."

"Ughh. Hospital food."

She chuckled, knowing how much he abhorred it. Just then her mobile vibrated. She reached out to grab it and saw that there was a text from Mycroft.

"Ahh … your parents are on their way."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Wonderful."

Molly left to use the loo as a nurse came in to check on him. When she returned to his room, Mummy and Daddy Holmes were there.

"Of all things to be doing Sherlock, running through an old warehouse!" Marian Holmes admonished, shaking her head.

Siger laid his hand on his wife's arm. "I think he is well aware of what he's about my dear."

Marian let out a sniff. "Oh Molly dear, you poor thing. You must have slept terribly on that little bed. Why don't you go home and have a nice, warm shower. I'm sure you'd like to."

Molly bit down on her lip and glanced over at Sherlock. He was frowning, but gave her a little nod.

"Thanks, I ahh … I think I will." She grabbed up her bag and walked over to him. "I won't be gone long, all right? Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat perhaps?"

He smiled. "Jaffa Cakes."

She laughed. "All right. See you in a bit."

He gave her hand a squeeze, before she stepped away.

Upon arriving at Baker Street she was surprised to discover that Mrs. Hudson was out at such an early hour. She climbed the stairs and entered the flat, instantly greeted by Toby who purred happily.

After stripping off her wrinkled clothing she got into the shower and stood beneath the hot spray of water. She allowed it to pour over her, the heat sinking into her bones. Just before the water turned cold, she gave herself a quick wash.

She dressed in her comfiest clothes, grateful that it was her day off. Once she had plaited her hair she walked to the kitchen, and began looking through the cupboards just as her phone began to ring. Her heart gave a faint stutter when she checked it and saw that it was Mike Stamford.

"Mike? Is anything wrong?"

"Oh no Molly, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted to let you know that if you needed anymore time off … due to the current situation with Sherlock, that that would be quite all right."

"Ohhh… oh God Mike, thank you. That is, so incredibly kind of you. And I really must apologize about not contacting you last night, and just rushing off the way I did. But it was thankfully close to the end of my shift."

"It's fine Molly. I'm not upset with you; you had every reason to do what you did. And please, let me know if you do need any days off."

"Thank you so much, Mike. At the moment I think I'll be able to stick to my schedule, but I will definitely let you know if that changes."

She spoke with him for a few minutes more than rung off and returned to rummaging in the cupboards. Upon managing to find two packages of Jaffa Cakes she placed them with her bag, before making herself a cup of tea and some breakfast, as well as feeding Toby. A little while later she was putting on her shoes when she heard the front door open.

"Are you in Molly?" Mrs. Hudson's voice floated up the stairs.

She moved to the door and opened it. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I am! I was just about to leave for Barts."

"Oh! Would you mind waiting a moment dear, I have something for you to bring to Sherlock."

"Ok!" Molly replied. She gathered her things and made her way downstairs.

Mrs. Hudson popped out of her flat, holding a container. "I had nipped out to the shops to get myself some milk, silly old bat that I am completely forgot that I had run out! I was worried I'd miss you, thinking you would most likely be coming back to the flat, if anything at least briefly. Anyway, these are for Sherlock. I made him some of his favourite biscuits." She held the container out to Molly.

"Thank you! He'll really appreciate these, he absolutely despises hospital food."

"I'd come visit him, but I'm sure he's had enough of people clucking about. I'll wait for that when he comes home," Mrs. Hudson said.

Molly laughed. "Yes, I only left because his Mum and Dad were there. But I'll be heading back now."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Well, tell him I send him my love."

"I will, and thank you again for these," Molly said as she held up the container.

She made her way back to Barts, hoping that he hadn't lost his temper with his mother. Upon arriving outside of his room, she was surprised to find that all was quiet. She stepped inside, and saw that he was alone and presumably dozing.

"Mummy and Dad went back to their hotel. A nurse came in and shooed them out," he said with a wide smile. He opened his eyes, blinking sleepily at her.

"Did you behave?" she asked him as she put down her bag before she sat down beside him.

"Yes. As best as I could manage. Did you bring the Jaffa Cakes?"

She laughed softly. "I did, along with some of Mrs. Hudson's biscuits. We're you given any food?"

He grunted. "I was, and it was horrid. Biscuits?" He gave her the puppy dog eyes. "Please?" he added for good measure.

She got up from the bed and retrieved the container. They sat quietly for a time, munching the biscuits.

"You'll most likely be released in a day or two," she said to him.

"Good," he mumbled, his mouth full of biscuit. He swallowed before continuing, "I rather hate being in this place. As a patient I mean."

Molly placed the cover onto the container before saying, "It won't be all that easy for you to move about ... I don't know if Dr. Richardson will want you in a wheelchair first or starting with crutches straight away."

Sherlock sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "At the moment I honestly don't care, I just want to be in Baker Street, away from all of ... this!" He waved his hand at the tubes and machines that he was attached to.

Several minutes of silence passed before Molly asked, "Did Lestrade catch the suspect you were chasing? I never thought to ask him."

Sherlock smirked. "He did. The man avoided the floor collapse but didn't make it much further. Lestrade's men got him in the end."

"What were his crimes?"

Sherlock launched into a full play-by-play explanation of the case, which managed for a time to take his mind off of his own current situation. But once he was finished telling his tale, he slumped once more against the pillows.

"Tired?" she questioned.

"Annoyingly yes."

"Then take a nap. I'll be right here; I brought my book with me."

He smoothed his hand over the top of hers. "You could go home; you don't have to stay here. It's bad enough it's your day off."

She tilted her head to the side. "Don't say what you don't really mean. I know you want me here."

He sighed, his eyes dropping closed. It was only seconds later that they popped back open. "They took off my ring," he stated with a frown. He held up his naked left hand.

"Ahh ... any idea as to where they put it?"

He thought for a moment. "In there." His gaze fell upon a cabinet that was next to where Elise had taken out the pillow and blankets.

Molly got up and opened it, finding his folded Belstaff, and suit jacket and shirt. His trousers had been damaged from the fall; his shoes were also not in there. Sat upon the Belstaff was his wedding ring. She picked it up and closed the cabinet.

After returning to his bed she took up his left hand, slipped on his ring and gave his finger a kiss.

"That's better," he murmured. "But a kiss on the lips would be even more so."

She laughed softly before kissing him. "Now go to sleep."

Sherlock slept for several hours, only being woken once by a nurse who came to check on him. He slept for another hour, and just as Molly finished her book, his parents returned with Mycroft in tow. The three of them were rather fancily dressed.

"Going to a show?" Sherlock enquired.

"Yes, to see _Mamma Mia!_ " his mother replied. "We're quite excited; I've wanted to see it again for ages,"

Mycroft looked everything but excited, his expression strained. Siger approached Sherlock's bed.

"I hope you don't mind, but we will be returning home tomorrow," he said to him.

Sherlock dismissed his father's words with a wave of his hand. "It's fine. You both really didn't need to come; it was just a broken leg."

Molly hissed out his name, and he swallowed.

"But ahhh … I am glad that you did."

Marian let out a sniff. "You always were a bit of an ungrateful sod."

Sherlock smiled saucily at her, and Molly had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. A few minutes later his parents and Mycroft left, only to be replaced by Mary, John and little Emily.

Sherlock's smile was genuine now as he held his arms out for Emily. She returned his smile, reaching out to him as Mary put her down upon the bed. John greeted Molly with a kiss, and lifted up the bag he was carrying.

"Mary and I brought sustenance," he announced.

"Thai?" Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off of Emily, as she showed him her new otter toy.

"Yeah … Mary was going to text and ask what you'd prefer, but we were going to go right by the Thai place so we just decided on that," he explained as he began to take out the food containers.

Once they had finished eating, the Watson's stayed for a little while longer and then left, leaving Molly and Sherlock alone.

"You should go home Molly; not spend the night here," he said to her.

She frowned. "Are you sure? I don't mind."

"You have work tomorrow, you need a good nights sleep."

She shook her head. "Mike gave me the day off, since you'll most likely be leaving hospital tomorrow."

"Oh."

She smiled at him. "So you're stuck with me tonight whether you like it or not."

His expression mirrored hers. "In that case, come here." He patted the spot on the bed beside him, she sat down and they kissed, his arms slipping around her to hold her close. "They should make these beds larger," he grumbled, between kisses. "I miss your warmth when I'm sleeping."

"You'll be in your own bed soon enough," she told him, smoothing his curls back from his forehead.

And so it was, the following day he was discharged from the hospital and Mycroft had a car readied to bring him to Baker Street. In spite of that though, the drive home wasn't all that comfortable for him. He let out a great sigh of relief when they arrived.

Molly helped him out of the car, and they made their way inside. Mrs. Hudson had been conveniently called out, Mycroft all too well aware that his brother wouldn't want the elderly woman to be coddling and clucking about him upon his return home. Sherlock took a deep breath as he steadied himself on his crutches, and gazed upon the flight of stairs before him.

"Just go slowly, take one step at a time. There's no rush," Molly said to him.

He nodded.

"You know, we could get you one of those stair lift chairs."

He turned and fixed upon her a glare that would have made a less assured person quail, but Molly Holmes was made of stronger stuff, thus she merely gave him a cheeky smile before doubling over with laughter.

"It's just a suggestion," she stated, once her mirth had subsided.

He breathed out loudly. "One that you will never mention, ever again."

She bit back another chuckle. He returned his gaze to the stairs, took another deep breath, and began his ascent. It was slow moving, but eventually he made it, entering their flat with a great sigh of relief. He made his way over to his chair and sank down into it as she dragged John's old chair closer, and placed several pillows upon it before raising Sherlock's cast-leg and propping it up onto the pillows.

"Is that ok? Are you comfortable?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Do you want something to eat or drink? You'll need to take your pills soon," she said to him.

"Tea would be nice," he replied.

She leaned down and gave him a kiss before moving towards the kitchen. Sherlock had a perfect view of her as she pottered about, making him smile. A few minutes later she brought in his tea and two pills. He took the tea and the pills before patting his good leg. She settled down into his lap, looping her arm around his neck.

"Angelo called me and said he would bring us dinner," she told him.

"Ahh … I must admit I have never once regretted getting him off that murder charge."

She laughed, settling her cheek against his chest. "Why did you tell Mycroft that you didn't want a nurse?"

Sherlock sniffed. "I don't need to be coddled. Both yours and John's care will suffice."

The hand that she had on his neck began to play with the curls at his nape.

"You're going to be cooped up in here for quite a few weeks, months really. I won't be able to be with you all the time, and neither will John."

Sherlock set down his tea cup, locking his arms about her waist. "I know you'll worry about me Molly, and you have every right to. I suppose its some small consolation, but I was never a narcotics abuser, and I don't intend to become one. If it will help, you could measure out the dose of what I'll need while you are gone, leave that, and take the rest with you."

She brought her hand up to his face, cupping his unshaven jaw line. He tilted his head down towards hers and their lips met. She kissed him sweetly, cradling the back of his head in her other hand.

"Thank you," she murmured against his lips.

After a few minutes Sherlock took up his tea once more, and she looked at him inquisitively when he suddenly scowled at it.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm going to get very bored … aren't I?"

She tightened her hold around him. "John, Lestrade and I are going to try our very best to keep you occupied. Lestrade already told me that he has several old case files he can bring over for you to peruse to your hearts content, and John offered to go to crime scenes and Skype with you. He did though, mention about threatening to use the mute button if you act like a tit."

Sherlock snorted, nearly spilling the final dregs of his tea.

"Perhaps you could take up knitting," she suggested.

"Absolutely not," he declared with a tone of finality, which made her laugh.

"Just one thing. You will NOT shoot up the walls."

He chuckled. "Yes mummy."

"Mrs. Hudson will have both our heads if you do!"

"Mmmm…"

They both fell silent, as she continued to play with his curls.

"John mentioned about getting you a recliner chair to sleep in," she said suddenly.

Sherlock shook his head. "No. I'll sleep in our bed."

"It might not be all that comfortable. You'll have to lie only on your back, and your leg will have to be elevated."

He shrugged. "I want to be with you, I won't be able to sleep otherwise."

She kissed his forehead. "Well that's that then. I'll gather up all the extra pillows that we have, and possibly ask Mrs. Hudson later if she has some."

* * *

Three weeks later, Molly decided she needed to speak with Mycroft. She had kept putting it off, placing all of her focus on work and dealing with Sherlock. For the most part he had been coping well. He would get into a strop every now and then, mainly out of frustration of being unable to move about as he was used to. And there were also those two times that John had left the flat in a huff, yelling over his shoulder that he needed to get his head out of his arse. But other than that, things had been going rather smoothly.

Upon reaching the end of her shift, and before leaving Barts she sent a text to Mycroft, asking him if they could have a chat. He replied quickly, asking if she would like to meet for tea. She quickly made clear to him that she needed to discuss private matters. It was then that he told her to meet him at the Diogenes Club. Upon her arrival Anthea brought in the tea tray, gave her a quick hug and then left, leaving Molly and Mycroft alone.

"What is it that you need to speak with me about?" Mycroft asked as he poured them each a cup.

"Victor Trevor."

The cup rattled slightly, but Mycroft quickly regained his composure.

"Ahh … so Sherlock has told you about him, has he?"

"Yes. He has. And it took him quite awhile until he was able."

Mycroft put down the teapot, not looking at her. He appeared to struggle to speak the next words. "What is it about him that you wish to know?"

She swallowed thickly. "Is he still alive?"

Mycroft was grateful for the fact that he had put down the teapot, it was an antique piece, quite delicate, and it would have been a shame to have destroyed it. He cleared his throat. "Why do you think he is still alive?"

"Sherrinford told Sherlock that he is."

Mycroft's lips became a thin, straight line. "He did, did he?"

"Yes. He thought that Sherlock had a right to know."

"That was not his secret to tell."

Molly struggled to suppress her growing rage. "That was not a secret he should ever have had to bear. I had a difficult enough time keeping the secret of Sherlock being alive for two whole years; I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for Sherrinford to keep such a secret for thirteen."

"It was what I thought was best at the time."

She took a few moments to steady her breathing, reminding herself that she wasn't here to be angry with him. "Is Victor still alive?"

Mycroft folded his hands in his lap, at last raising his gaze to meet hers. "Yes, he is."

"And you know where he is?" she asked.

"I do. I've kept an eye on him all of these years."

"Of course. I would expect you to."

They stared at each other for several moments before she spoke again.

"So how did you do it? How did you convince him to never speak to Sherlock again? How did you convince Victor to act as if he has been dead all these years?"

Mycroft sighed. "It wasn't easy. Whenever is it easy to make a junkie see reason?" He picked at an invisible bit of lint. "I offered him money at first, but he refused it. Wisely in fact, for I'm sure that if he had taken it he would have wasted it away on drugs, eventually succeeding in … his original plan." Mycroft paused, picking up his cup to take a sip. "Next I offered to place him in rehab, in one of the best facilities, not the one Sherlock was in of course, and only if he agreed to never try and contact Sherlock again."

"And Victor agreed to this?" Molly asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Not at first, no. It took some convincing. Sentiment you know, it was very clear that he did love my brother. But in the end he agreed. He did well in rehab, and after proving himself to me I decided to give him a job in America. It was too dangerous to keep him here in England; I feared the possibility of him somehow happening upon Sherlock. And what with Sherlock making a name for himself, it would be difficult for Victor. For the past twelve years he has not once set foot on English soil."

She thought quietly for a moment. "Has he done well for himself?"

"Yes. He's been most successful."

She nodded, leaning forward to take up her teacup. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"Molly … I know what you're thinking, and I must tell you, I really do not think it would be wise."

She looked at him over the brim of the cup, took a sip and swallowed before saying, "Why not? Why would it be so horrible for them to see each other?"

Mycroft sighed. "I've seen them together, you never have. Their relationship was a deleterious one. The thought of them being in the same room terrifies me."  
She frowned, moving her thumb over the delicate bone china. "Even after all of this time?"

"Yes. It is a risk I do not wish to take."

"But you said he's been clean, and Sherlock has been ever since the Magnussen case and prior to that it was years."

Mycroft sighed again. "Yes. What you say is true … and I'm not implying that I think the instant they see each other they will both succumb to drugs … no that is not what I mean at all."

She looked at him, noting how strained his expression was. He took another sip of tea before continuing.

"Victor brought out all of Sherlock's worst qualities, he intensified them. I've never seen anything like it, and I could never discover the logic behind it, of how or why he did it. I do not wish him to turn Sherlock against you."

She thought quietly for a moment. "Do you think that's possible?"

"I don't know. And it's the not knowing that frightens me."

She became thoughtful once more, both of them drinking their tea.

"Do you know why he did it?" she asked quietly. "Why Victor tried to kill both of them?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No. I just took it as an accident brought on by sheer ignorance and immaturity."

She sighed. "Sherlock needs to know. He needs to speak to Victor. He won't be truly at peace until he does; it's been a burden upon him all of these years. He needs to know why."

Mycroft laid his hands flat upon the tops of his trousered thighs. "Allow me to think upon it. I cannot guarantee that you will like my decision, but I will consider your request."

She placed her empty teacup in its saucer, and stood. "Thank you Mycroft. I know this isn't easy for you, but please … I think its best for him."

He gave a swift nod. "I cannot promise you anything, Molly."

"I know. But still, thank you."

On her way back to Baker Street she decided to pick up some things to make Spaghetti Bolognese. She hadn't cooked in quite a while and she knew how much Sherlock enjoyed it. She sent a text to him, asking if he wanted her to pick up anything in particular.

 _Some cream cakes would be nice._ – SH

She rolled her eyes as she read his text, wondering how the man had such a sweet tooth and yet managed to stay so slim. After making her purchases she made her way home, humming quietly to herself as she climbed the stairs and entered the flat. Sherlock was sat in his chair, his cast encased leg perched on John's chair, upon a pile of pillows. His laptop was sat upon the tops of his legs.

He looked up at her briefly before he returned his gaze to his laptop. "Enjoy your tea with Mycroft?" he enquired.

She stopped mid-step towards the kitchen. "How the hell could you have deduced that?"

He smirked, and looked up at her once more. "I didn't. It was merely a lucky guess."

She let out a huff and continued into the kitchen. "I'm making Spaghetti Bolognese for dinner, do you approve?" she called out to him as she began to put her shopping away.

"Oh yes. You know how much I like that."

Molly walked into the sitting room and Sherlock closed his computer and set it aside. The moment she reached him he pulled her down onto his lap. They kissed for a time, and he slipped his hand beneath her blouse, pinching her nipple between his thumb and finger through the fabric of her bra. She breathed out his name in a warning tone and he pouted when she pulled away from him.

"Why not?" he growled out.

"Later," she said with a chuckle before placing a quick kiss on his lips. "Right now I am going to cook."

"Minx," he grumbled as she got up from his lap.

As she set about gathering the things she would need to make their meal, he got up from his chair and crutched his way into the kitchen before settling into one of the chairs at the table.

"I can bring you home some eyes tomorrow," she said to him, "or possibly a lung. Would you like that?"

"Molly, come here."

She turned about, and saw that he was holding his hand out to her. She moved towards him and he took her hand in his, pulling her close. He tilted his head back and they kissed.

"I love you," he murmured quietly. "Have I ever told you that?"

She pretended to think for a moment. "Mmmm … I think once or twice."

He sniffed, but he was smiling.

"You sir, are a very lucky man."

"Oh, I know it. How many wives would offer to bring home body parts?"

She laughed before kissing him again. "Not many, I would think!"

They shared in another kiss before she stepped away to continue with her cooking. Whilst she made the sauce, he chopped the vegetables for roasting. They worked well together in the kitchen, and within no time the meal was ready.

"Is it good?" she asked, as he took his first bite.

"Beyond delicious. You spoil me Molly."

She smiled. "Well, just as you've said to me, you deserve to be spoiled. And I enjoy spoiling you."

He kissed her, smearing sauce against her lips. She laughed, licking it away. He watched her, swallowing thickly.

"Eat your food, mister," she commanded, knowing exactly to where his mind had drifted. "We'll see to that later!"

He gave her a cheeky smile and returned to eating.

They continued their meal in comfortable silence. Once they were done, and while Molly washed up, Sherlock returned to his chair. He watched her, a smile coming to his face.

He had never considered himself a domestic man, but she had changed him. He wouldn't admit it out loud, and could just barely admit it to himself, but she had. Leaning back in his seat, he palmed at his growing erection, quite anxious to feel himself sheathed in her tight, wet heat.

She had finished up in the kitchen and was now walking towards him, a small smile playing about her lips. "Hmmm …," she said thoughtfully, "I think someone needs therapy … of a sexual nature!" She was now stood directly before him. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his as she slipped her hand beneath his loose cotton trousers so that she could stroke his cock.

He groaned into her mouth, ending in a sound of disappointment as she pulled both hand and lips away from him. She smiled, then grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards. Once it was off, he tugged her down to him and kissed her deeply. After a few moments she helped him out of the rest of his clothes, it not being an entirely easy feat to remove his trousers from around the cast; he had taken to not bothering with wearing any pants. Once he was naked, and his cast leg resituated on John's chair, she stepped back and stripped before him, giving him an eyeful of her newly revealed skin. Sherlock ached to touch her, but she had other ideas.

His hard cock jutted out from his hips, and she clasped it in her small hand as she kneeled, before taking the swollen red tip into her mouth. He groaned as she licked him just the way he liked it. She released him with a small pop and moved herself up until she was straddling his lap, kneeling on either side of his hips. They kissed hungrily as she sank down onto his cock, moaning against his mouth as she cupped the side of his face. He held onto her bum, squeezing slightly as she began to ride him. When they parted for breath he dropped his head down to take her breast between his lips. She mewled as he circled her nipple with his tongue then cried out when he bit down on it, making her pick up her pace.

"That's it Molly," he encouraged. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Mmmm … yes, oh yes!" she moaned in agreement.

He stroked at her clit with his thumb, and she let out a wild cry before she moved her hands to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as she began to truly ride his cock.

"Yes! Yes! Nggghhh … fuck!" she dropped down onto him, her body shaking as her orgasm coursed through her.

"Oh Christ Molly," he groaned, her final movement, tipping him over the edge with her.

She collapsed against his chest, and he looped his arms around her, breathing heavily as he pressed his nose into her hair. His cock was faintly pulsing and twitching, still buried deep inside of her.

"Mmmm … that was lovely," she murmured to him.

He gave a hum of agreement. "I rather enjoy that this cast of mine gives you full reign and control."

She briefly nibbled at his skin, before snuggling once more against him. They dozed for a little while, before she helped him up and they made their way into the shower.

"I hate that I have to wear this thing," he said to her, as he glowered at the plastic bag that had been tied around his leg.

She looked at it for a moment. "It's like a condom for your cast!"

He rolled his eyes. "Not quite Molly." He settled himself down into the chair that had been placed in the shower. "I also don't like that I have to be sat in this."

She turned on the water before she replied. "It's too dangerous for you to stand. Just remember it's not permanent. It's only for a little while."

They showered fairly quickly, Molly massaging his head whilst she shampooed his hair. When they surfaced from the steaming bathroom, she removed the plastic bag from his cast leg, and helped him into his pyjamas.

"Bed, or back to your chair?" she asked.

"Bed." He yawned. "I barely did anything all day, what with this confounded leg and all, how can I be so tired?" he grumbled.

She helped him to get situated, making sure that the pillows were piled properly. "Well, we did just shag, that's certain to take a little bit out of you. And your body is healing, it takes a lot to fuse back broken bone."

He sighed. "I suppose."

"Do you want your laptop?"

He smiled at her. "Yes."

She slipped on a dressing gown and left the room to retrieve his computer. Upon returning she handed it to him, before removing the dressing gown and putting on a pair of knickers and one of his t-shirts.

"Toby!" she called out.

A few moments later the little 'pat pat pat' of his pads on the floor reached her ears. He entered their bedroom, jumped onto the bed and curled up alongside of Sherlock, purring happily.

"Too bad my cast is so thick. A cat's purr is known to have healing powers."

Molly bit down on her lip to prevent herself from laughing, secretly admiring though the fact that her husband was such a nerd. She got onto the bed, giving Toby a pet before kissing Sherlock. "Yes darling, I know." She gave him another kiss, before lying down beside him and opening up her book.

It wasn't until a half an hour later that she realized that he had fallen asleep. She had been so engrossed by her book that she hadn't noticed that he had stopped typing. Ever so gently she removed his laptop, closing it before placing it on the small table beside the bed. He gave a small grunt, turning towards her. She pulled the blanket and sheet up over him, brushing his damp curls back from his forehead, before placing a kiss there.

* * *

Sherlock had been cooped up in Baker Street for almost a month now, and all in all for the most part he was continuing to behave. The past couple of days though he had been abnormally quiet, and was glued to his laptop and mobile. He hadn't touched his violin, which she found to be somewhat odd, for he had taken to composing to keep himself amused. He also hadn't started any experiments on the three thumbs she had brought him.

She was going to text him while at work, but her day had become rather hectic and she didn't have the chance to check her phone until nearly the end of her shift. Surprisingly there was a text from him.

 _No need to fret about dinner. It has been taken care of. –_ SH

Her brow furrowed as she read his message.

 _You didn't cook did you? You know you are not supposed to be up on your feet for too long!" -_ Mx

 _Stop your worrying Molly, and come home. I miss you. –_ SH

 _I miss you too. I'm leaving now. And if you did cook I am going to be very upset with you! -_ Mx

He didn't reply, and she didn't hear from him again as she gathered up her things and made her way outside. There was a chill in the air, the month of November having only just begun. She tucked her coat closer to her body and hailed a cab.

Upon arriving at Baker Street she mentally prepared herself, taking a few deep breaths so that she wouldn't get too upset if he did indeed cook. She climbed the stairs and entered the flat, but instantly grew still, her mouth dropping open.

"What's all this?" she questioned, looking about her with widened eyes.

The entire front room was filled with candles, the only light source except for the roaring fire. A cozy and inviting looking make-shift bed had been set up in front of the fireplace, Sherlock's and John's chairs having been pushed further apart. A meal was laid out on the coffee table, that too having been pushed away from the sofa and closer to the fireplace.

Sherlock approached her slowly, his crutches making his movements awkward, but he was smiling widely. "This, my darling Molly," he said before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her jaw line, "is to celebrate our six month anniversary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a bit of a better ending to a chapter then the last one right? Hehehe! I actually had a different ending originally planned but then decided on this and bumped that ending to the next chapter :)
> 
> Also, fear not ... this isn't the last we shall see of Victor! I've actually had the idea of him in my head since a year ago! I was lying sick in bed with an awful headache and my brain decided to be extra cruel and refused to shut up and kept on giving me fic ideas ... hmph.
> 
> I'm quite looking forward to continuing on with this fic, I struggled for a bit with where to take it but now I think I've got a good plan set out ... weee!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update, and please do let me know! I love reviews so much :D


	45. Six Month Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update is finally here! Woo Woo!
> 
> I didn't expect it to take this long, sorry about that, but I hit a bit of a dry spell with my writing.
> 
> Hopefully it's back now and I can start updating more regularly ... no promises though.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

"This, my darling Molly," Sherlock said before he leaned forward and placed a kiss upon her jaw line, "is to celebrate our six month anniversary." He moved back but only enough so that he could press his lips to hers.

"You remembered!" she exclaimed.

He frowned slightly. "Must you sound so surprised?"

She slipped her arms around his shoulders and stood on tiptoe so that she could kiss his frown away. "Most men don't pay attention to such things."

He harrumphed. "When have I ever been like most men?"

She smiled. "True," she said before she kissed him hungrily, but was careful to not throw him off balance.

His crutches fell to the floor with a clatter as he let go of them in order to wrap his arms around her waist. She jumped slightly, but didn't pull away from the kiss.

"Happy Anniversary," she whispered breathlessly when they did at last break apart.

He brushed his nose against hers. "Happy Anniversary." He tilted back just enough so that he could look at her directly. "You are happy, aren't you?"

She cupped his face in her hands. "Have I ever made you think that I'm not?"

He shook his head. "No."

She kissed him. "I am happy, incandescently so."

He returned the kiss, hugging her close. When they parted for breath, she stepped out of his embrace and bent down to pick up his crutches. He steadied himself on them as she moved further into the flat to look at the make-shift bed that was set up in front of the fireplace and the food that was plated on the coffee table.

"Did you do all this yourself?" she asked.

"No. John and Mary helped, and Mrs. Hudson. Angelo provided the food," Sherlock explained.

"Of course." She picked up the two glasses of champagne that were on the table and held them as he moved towards her. He took the offered glass and they clinked them together, before each taking a sip.

"Just the one glass Sherlock! You know you can't have alcohol with your medication," she said to him.

He nodded and downed the rest of the champagne. "Hungry?" he asked her.

"Positively starving! But you shouldn't sit on the floor; you won't be able to stand up very easily."

He waved her worry away with his hand. "I'll be fine. It's not like we'll be sitting there for hours, I do have other ideas in mind for this evening that don't involve eating ... well ..." A wicked gleam came to his eyes. "Not eating _food_."

She gave his arm a swat. They settled down on the floor, once Molly had propped a few pillows beneath his cast-foot, so that it was slightly elevated. As they ate their meal, they shared kisses and caresses. Once they were finished she cleared away the plates, putting them into the sink to soak. After pushing back the coffee table, and adding another log to the fire, they lay down upon the bed that had been made up before the fireplace. There were pillows that had been placed so that he could settle himself comfortably against them.

Sherlock kissed her deeply, his hand slipping beneath her blouse, to stroke at her skin. "I want to make love to you Molly," he murmured between kisses.

"Can you ...?" she asked softly.

"I've been doing some reading, and I'm quite certain that if we both lie on our sides I won't be in any pain and my cast won't be cumbersome."

She kissed him, and grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it upwards. Between feverish kisses they managed to undress each other, the warmth from the fire keeping the cool air at bay. As soon as she was naked he slipped his hand between her legs and began to caress her clit. She mewled, arching against him as he slipped two fingers inside of her, using the pad of his thumb against her clit to continue the stimulation.

"Oh fuck ..." she moaned and within seconds she came.

When he moved his hand away from her she grabbed it and brought his fingers to her mouth to suck them clean. He swore beneath his breath, and raised her thigh so that it settled against his hip, her calf touching his leg, positioning her so that he could slip into her wet core with ease. They both moaned in unison, before sharing in a passionate kiss. Her body rocked against his, the pair of them meeting thrust for slow thrust. Her hands clutched at his back, her blunt nails digging ever so slightly into his skin. He hissed out a breath and cupped her bum to pull her closer, so that he could enter her deeper.

"YESSSSSSS!" she cried wildly.

His face was pressed against her neck, and he was breathing heavily against her skin. When he brought one of his hands up to palm at her breast and pinch at her nipple, her back arched and she came with a loud scream of his name. He rode her through her orgasm, now desperate for his own sweet release. A curse groaned out from between his lips as he felt her fingers caress his bollocks, and with one final thrust he came inside of her. They held each other for several minutes, basking in the afterglow. The fire crackled and popped, shadows dancing along the wall and over their skin. He kissed her gently, and she hummed against his lips.

"Stay here," she told him. "I'll be back in a tic to help clean you up." She ended her sentence with a saucy wink. After another quick kiss, she stood and made her way down the hall towards the bathroom.

He watched her, drinking in the sight of her naked form. She returned a short time later with a damp cloth, and proceeded to wipe him clean, which only resulted in making him begin to grow hard.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed in mock dismay. "Whatever am I to do?" The cloth had been tossed to the side and her hand was now wrapped around his growing erection. She pumped his length as his breath quickened. "Hmmm ... perhaps this?" She bent forward and took the swollen tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him as if he were a lolly. After a few more licks she took him further into her mouth and began to suckle him.

"Fuck Molly!" he bit out.

She released his cock, but didn't pull away, instead proceeding to lick and kiss her way up and down the length of him, nipping at his bollocks from time to time. With her hand wrapped around the base she took in as much of his cock as she could and gave him a long, drawn out suck. He swore loudly and came down her throat. She licked him clean, teasing the slit at the tip with her tongue before sitting up, and smiling cheekily at him. He was positively breathless, but quickly regained his mental faculties and pulled her to him to kiss her deeply.

"Your turn," he growled out.

"Oh ... oh my!" she exclaimed, this time not quite so mockingly.

He laid himself down and positioned her so that she was straddling his face. He took no time in delving his tongue between her folds and licking and suckling at her clit and her aching wet core. He fucked her with his tongue while his nose nuzzled against her tender nub. Her body shuddered and shook above him as he ravaged her with his mouth. When he slipped two of his fingers deep inside of her, and placed his lips on her clit she cried out his name, her entire body twitching from the force of her orgasm. He gently kissed and suckled at her, before proceeding to lick her clean. She muttered curses beneath her breath, before she struggled to move off of him, when she at last managed to do so she collapsed down beside him. His smile was positively wicked as he wiped his mouth free of her juices.

"Have I managed to make this a memorable anniversary?" he asked after a short while had passed.

"Fuck … yes you have! I don't know how you could top it when it's our one year!"

His smile, if at all possible, grew even more wicked. "Oh, I am sure I'll think of something."

She shook her head before she kissed him.

"Do you intend to sleep out here?" she asked, as she looked at the crackling logs.

He made a noncommittal noise. "At least until the fire dies."

She smoothed her thumb across his cheek, as she turned her gaze to him. "I can't believe that we've been married for six months. How did that happen?"

He opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him with a finger across his lips.

"Don't rattle off some scientific explanation, you know exactly what I meant," she said and he nipped at her fingertip.

They made love once more, just as the fire began to turn to ash. As the room grew dark and became cooler, Molly gathered the blankets and pillows and they made their way into their bedroom.

* * *

The rest of November flew by in a flash, and before they knew it, it was December and Christmas was rearing its holly-bedecked head. Sherlock was continuing to heal, and had managed to solve a couple of 9's with the help of John and Skype. There of course was the threat of the use of the mute-button, but all in all Sherlock managed to behave.

As Christmas began to make its approach, Molly threw herself into the spirit of the season and decorated nearly every inch of the flat. At first Sherlock was a bit flummoxed and annoyed with all of the frippery but soon realized that it made her happy and so he kept his mouth shut. And if Toby managed to be dyed green ("But isn't it a seasonal colour?!") he decided that he couldn't entirely take the full blame. Molly of course, did not agree with him.

"I thought you promised me that you'd never experiment on Toby!" she cried, as she cradled the forest green cat to her chest.

"It wasn't exactly an experiment."

"SHERLOCK!"

He sank further down into his chair.

"There better be a way that this can be reversed," she said to him. "Some kind of shampoo or something. Honestly, how could you do this?"

He pouted, side-eyeing the feline. "It's perfectly non-toxic, it won't harm him. I made sure of that. As for it being washed out ... ahh ... you'll just have to wait for it to be ... brushed out."

"Oh my God Sherlock, that could be months! My poor, poor Toby! I'm so sorry the silly man did this to you." She kissed and cuddled the cat.

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and glowered. "I suppose I'll be sleeping on the sofa?" he muttered.

She humphed. "You guessed correctly. Experimenting on my knickers was bad enough ... but this ... this is just plain awful." She shook her head and carried Toby into the kitchen to give him some treats. The cat appeared to be perfectly oblivious to the change in his fur colour, showing no signs of discomfort. She was happy about this, but truly it was the principle of the thing. If Sherlock was going to do something like this to her beloved cat, who is to say what he would do to one of their children? _If_ they were ever to have any.

For the rest of the evening she didn't speak to him, instead occupying herself with cooking their dinner and writing out her Christmas cards. She gave him his plate of food without a word, and ate alone in the kitchen. When she came in to retrieve his empty plate he grasped onto her wrist and tugged her down onto his lap. She briefly fought against his hold, but quickly gave in and sank against him. He put his arms around her, pressing his forehead against her neck.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he explained. "I thought ... I thought that you would see it as funny."

She didn't speak a word. He swallowed thickly.

"I see that now ... I was very, _very_ wrong."

She turned her head so that it was leaning against his. "Do you understand why I am so upset with you?"

"I ... believe so," he answered slowly.

"I'm upset, because I'm frightened."

He reared back. "Frightened? Of what?"

She swallowed, and took a deep breath. "I'm frightened that ... because you think you can do things like that to Toby ... it just ... it makes me wonder what you would do to our children. Would I have to worry about leaving them alone with you?"

"Molly." He grabbed her about the shoulders and turned her so that she was facing him fully. "I would never, NEVER do anything to harm our child. I would never experiment on them. NEVER. Please don't think that I am capable of doing such a thing."

She slowly nodded, relief flooding through her veins. She believed him, and silently cursed herself for ever doubting him. He cradled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin so that she could hear the solid beating of his heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I thought you knew me Molly ... really ... you _should_ know better. I've never experimented on a live subject ... mostly thanks to you and your endless supply of body parts." He gave her hip a pinch, letting her know that he was only teasing her.

She chuckled. "Have you ever wanted to?"

"No. I'll leave that to the murderers ... solving a crime is much more interesting to me than performing one."

"Glad to hear it."

He moved his hand up and down her back. "Am I still sleeping on the sofa?"

"Mmmm ... I'll think about it."

He sighed, somewhat dramatically then grew quiet as he watched Toby enter the room. "I could always add a bit of red to the tips of his ears, make him more festive."

"SHERLOCK!"

"Right, bad idea."

It was her turn to sigh, before she pressed her face into his chest.

* * *

Christmas arrived and it was an all around quiet affair. Mrs. Hudson had gone on a tropical cruise with a couple of her girlfriends, Mummy and Daddy Holmes were in the States, Mycroft claimed that he was far too busy, and Lestrade was in the north with his wife; for the sake of the kids, leaving only Mary, John, and little Emily. They came over for Christmas Eve dinner, which Molly had decided to cook all herself.

It was a pleasant meal, with them popping crackers and wearing the ridiculous paper crowns, even Sherlock wore one, his was purple. After they had finished eating, while Mary and Molly brought the dishes into the kitchen to soak in the sink, John and Sherlock moved into the sitting room to amuse themselves with Emily.

"There's something I want to tell you," Mary said as she dipped two plates into the soapy water. "I want to be able to tell you this before Sherlock goes and blurts it out."

"Oh? What is it?" Molly asked feeling slightly concerned.

"I'm pregnant."

Molly stared at her gob-smacked for a moment, then quickly recovered and smiled broadly. "Oh, congratulations! Was that planned?"

Mary beamed. "No, not exactly, but John is over the moon about it. We're both hoping for a son."

"This is so wonderful!" Molly moved to hug her, but as she did so she couldn't help but sense a slight sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why was the announcement of her friend's pregnancy making her unhappy?

Suddenly John entered the kitchen. "I suppose Mary has told you our good news," he said, unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Yes, she has," Molly replied. "Congratulations." She gave him a hug.

A voice rumbled from the sitting room. "I knew about it two weeks ago. I suppose there will be no congratulations for me in managing to keep it to myself?"

John merely rolled his eyes, mumbling what sounded like "git" beneath his breath. The Watson's stayed for a little while longer, then left after a few exchanges of 'Happy Christmas!', leaving Sherlock and Molly alone. She switched off the lights in the kitchen, leaving the flat with only the soft glow of the twinkle lights and that from the dying fire. Sherlock was stretched out upon the sofa, his cast elevated upon a pile of pillows. She sat down beside him and he shifted to the side, making just enough room for her so that she could lie down as well.

"So you knew, all that time about Mary's pregnancy and didn't say anything?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered drily.

"I'm rather proud of you."

He sniffed. "I didn't exactly wish to be punched or head-butted."

She giggled. "But you didn't even say anything to me!"

"Mmm ... I wanted to. But thought it would be best not to do so. Most likely Mary would shoot me again if I ruined her chance to share the news."

Molly rolled her eyes. Sherlock took up her left hand, moving his thumb across her rings.

"I asked you to marry me, a year ago today," he said softly.

She smiled. "Yes, you did. Completely surprised me! I wasn't expecting it at all."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. "I wasn't expecting you to say yes."

"You weren't?" Her tone was that of disbelief.

"No. I thought that you would see reason. That you would tell me that you couldn't fathom permanently attaching yourself to someone like me."

She shook her head and started to speak, but he beat her to it.

"Thank you Molly, for never giving up on me. I know that our relationship has had its ups and downs, and that it hasn't been easy and mostly likely never will be, and I know that I've thanked you for this before, but I feel as if I can never stop thanking you."

She moved her hand to the back of his head and pulled him closer so that she could kiss him. "And thank you Sherlock, for loving me, for deciding to give _us_ a chance. You've made me so very happy."

He swallowed thickly. "You've made me happy as well ... happier than I ever thought possible."

She smiled. "Good. You deserve to be happy."

They kissed again.

"I think we should move to our bedroom, it's getting a bit chilly out here," she said to him, her hand just so happening to brush against the tent in his trousers.

He hitched in a breath, muffling a groan as she stood up. She helped him to his feet and they made their way into the bedroom. Toby, who was curled up in front of the fire, popped an eye open, gave them one quick look and returned to sleep. He knew that he would be banished from the bedroom if he tried to follow them.

As soon as Sherlock closed the door he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. They fell upon the bed, he making sure that she didn't become crushed beneath his cast, his crutches falling noisily to the floor. Hands fumbled with buttons and zips, both struggling to undress the other in record speed.

"I want to be on top," she whispered breathlessly, once they were both naked.

He groaned loudly and rolled onto his back. Once she had his cast suitably situated upon a pile of pillows she straddled his other thigh and took his throbbing cock between her lips. He growled out a curse as she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue against his length, as she gently massaged his bollocks. After cleaning the tip of his pre-cum she moved herself upwards so that her knees were on either side of his hips.

She smiled down at him as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and rubbed it against her soaking wet folds. She moaned as the head moved across her clit, before she sheathed him in her tight, wet heat. Pressing her hands into his chest, she sat for a moment, enjoying the feel of him so deep inside of her, before leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips as she began to move. He held onto her bum, guiding her up and down his cock as they continued to kiss, the hard point of her nipples moving across his chest in a rather enjoyable way.

She rocked her pelvis against his so that her clit got the stimulation it craved. Her noises were becoming incessant now as she picked up the pace, and Sherlock wasn't exactly being quiet himself. The bed faintly shook against the walls as she moved to sit up so that she could truly ride him.

"Fuu-uu-uccck!" she moaned.

He watched, completely fascinated by the sight of his cock entering her pink sex. He briefly glanced up at her bouncing breasts, only to return his gaze downwards when she moved her hand to stroke at her clit. He groaned out a curse, always enjoying watching her touch herself. He raised his hands to cover her breasts, massaging them.

"Yeah ... yeah ... oh ... fuck yeah!" she cried. Her head was thrown back and he was well aware that she was going to come very soon.

He wanted nothing more than to press his feet into the mattress so that he could thrust up into her, but knew that at the moment this was impossible. Instead he allowed her to continue to have full control, rather liking the fact that she was taking from him her pleasure. His orgasm was sudden; he hadn't been expecting it, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the tightening in his balls, far too enthralled by her. He groaned out her name, squeezing her breasts non-too-gently. That was enough to send her over the edge.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she dropped down upon him, their hips pressing together. "Oh, oh ..." she whimpered. Her hand moved away to steady herself against him, before he grabbed both of her wrists and helped her to lie down upon his chest, his cock slowly slipping out of her.

She hummed quietly as he buried his nose in her hair. They stayed like this until their breathing returned to a normal pitch. She then kissed him sweetly before moving off of him to go clean herself up in the bathroom. When she returned to the bed she gave him a flannel so that he could wipe himself clean. Afterwards they curled up together beneath the covers, both of them dozing for a time.

"Mary's pregnancy announcement has upset you," he stated suddenly.

Molly breathed in slowly before letting it out. "I wouldn't exactly say that it upset me, more so surprised me ... left me feeling ... odd. I can't really describe it."

He nuzzled her ear. "We haven't discussed having children in quite a while."

She pressed herself closer against him. "No. We haven't. Been to busy gallivanting around the world, and now your convalescence."

A noise rumbled in his throat. "Perhaps once my leg is fully healed we can start trying?"

She buried her face into his chest. "I suppose."

"Molly ... Molly look at me."

She slowly raised her head, her gaze flickering to his, then away.

"Come here, come closer."

She pushed herself upwards until her head could lie beside his on the pillow.

"What is it about having children that frightens you so much?" he questioned gently. He slipped his arm around her back, caressing her skin.

"It is how much they change your life," she answered. "Your reality becomes entirely different. Nothing is ever the same again. It's such a huge responsibility, one that you can never let go of for the rest of your life."

Sherlock pressed his lips to her forehead, encouraging her to continue.

"When I was growing up, I never was one to play with dolls all that much, I preferred being out of doors, searching for dead animals and trying to discover why they died. I didn't have many friends because of that."

His arm around her tightened.

"Once I was in uni I was at last amongst other people who were fascinated by the same things as myself. But there were still girls, women who wanted that whole marriage and baby bit, and none of them understood why or how I never had, what they called, 'baby fever'. I told them I wanted to focus on my career, and I told myself that my feelings would probably change when the right man came along." She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. "Then you came into my life ... and yes ... my feelings did change ... somewhat. The first moment I saw you I wanted to climb you like a tree." She snorted a laugh, pressing her face into his shoulder as her cheeks burned. "You are rather tree like, you're so bloody tall."

He was surprised to find himself shaking with silent laughter. She nipped at his skin.

"I was still young then, and a bit immature. I'm sure you remember that first meeting quite clearly."

He smiled. "I do. You could barely speak, and when you did you stammered over every other word."

She groaned in embarrassment. "Damn you and your eidetic memory."

He chuckled. "You said 'somewhat'."

"Yeah, I did. My traitorous brain flooded with images of being in bed with you, but not a single thought came to mind of what our children would look like."

He hummed thoughtfully.

"I don't know Sherlock, I'm sorry. I just ... I can't fully decide if I want children or not. Not yet, at least."

He moved onto his side as best as he could, before he kissed her tenderly. "I've said once before that we need to be in complete agreement on this, I won't force you to do anything that you don't want to. Especially since you would be dealing with the brunt of it. When the time is right we will have children, or we won't. My love for you won't abate in any way."

She kissed him, deeply. "I love you Sherlock, so very much."

They continued to kiss, hands smoothing across skin. As they pulled apart to take in some air, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was a minute passed midnight.

"Oh ... Happy Christmas Sherlock!"

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her soundly. "Happy Christmas, my Molly."

* * *

As the joys of the season began to abate, things returned to normal. Except for Sherlock who had been in a strop for the passed two days, and as to why Molly didn't know. She had quickly learned not to question him when he was in one of these moods, for it would only result in him snapping at her. Usually she would quietly go about her business whilst trying to figure out what had caused him to be so disgruntled.

He had just wrapped up a case, solving an eight from the sitting room sofa! And it wasn't for lack of experiments either; she had been bringing him home fingers and toes. Whatever it was it had set him wallowing in silence; pouting in his chair as he glowered at nothing. When she came home from work that evening, and found him still sat in his chair without looking as if he had moved whatsoever, she decided to put her foot down and snap him out of whatever _this_ was.

"Sherlock Holmes, what exactly is the matter with you?" she declared her hands on her hips as she stood in front of him.

He blinked for several moments, before slowly looking up at her as his brow furrowed. "The matter? Nothing is the matter."

"Is that so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Have you eaten or drank anything today?"

"Ahh ..." He looked to the left, then to the right, and then he looked back up at her. "No."

She shook her head. "Sherlock, you can't do that. Your body is still healing! It's important that you keep yourself well-fed and hydrated." She sighed, muttering beneath her breath, "Perhaps I should take up Mycroft on his offer of getting you a nurse."

Sherlock spluttered. "Don't you dare!"

She leaned forward, placing her hands on the arms of the chair. "Then take better care of yourself. You must have been in your Mind Palace for hours! You've hardly spoken a word to me within the passed two days!"

A look of regret crossed over his face before he reached up to her and pulled her down onto his lap. She settled against him, the gentle thrum of his heartbeat below her ear.

"Will you tell me what brought on your Mind Palace perusal?" she asked after several moments of silence had passed.

He sighed. "Mummy wants us to spend New Year's with them."

Molly sat up and looked at him. "You were wandering your Mind Palace to find a way to get out of that, weren't you?"

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

"So that's why your pants have been in a twist!" she said. "Unbelievable."

"Technically I'm not wearing any pants," he muttered.

She gave his arm a pinch. "And what exactly do you have against spending New Year's with your parents?"

"I have a list, shall I tell it to you?"

This time she pinched his side.

"We haven't seen them since our wedding! When they came to visit you in hospital doesn't count, they weren't here for very long at all," she noted.

He sighed dramatically. "Must we?"

She looped her arms around his neck. "Yes, I think we must. Besides, John and Mary, and Emily will be up north visiting with Harry, so we would be ringing in the New Year alone."

"And when has us being alone ever been a bad thing?" he grumbled.

She chuckled. "It hasn't, but if you tell your mother no, you will most likely be forced to join her in going to a number of musicals once your leg has fully healed."

"Ahh ... good point."

She snuggled up against him. "It doesn't have to be a long visit, a couple of days at the most. And it would be good for you to get out of Baker Street. You've barely left the flat."

He buried his nose in her hair. "It's those damn stairs," he muttered, then sighed. "I suppose if it means that I won't have to sit through _Voulez-Vous_ than I I'll have to agree."

She smiled; surprised that he knew the name of a song from _Mamma Mia_. He slipped his hand beneath her blouse and tickled her rib cage, as he let out another sigh.

"I am ashamed to say that _some_ things are impossible for me to delete," he admitted.

She laughed outright. When she leaned back she was pleased to see that he was smiling.

"That's better, I prefer to see you happy," she said to him.

"Will you allow me to make up to you for the passed two days?" he asked.

She pretended to think for a moment. "Hmmm... what was that you said about not wearing any pants?"

* * *

It was now the 30th, and Sherlock and Molly were currently making their way towards his parent's home. Mycroft had sent a car for them so that Sherlock could travel as comfortably as possible. Both Mycroft and Anthea had somehow managed to finagle their way out of going. Anthea had assured Molly that Toby would be well looked after.

"So was your mother happy when you told her that we were coming?" Molly asked.

"Ahhh …"

She stared at him. "You didn't tell her?"

"Uhhh …"

"Oh my God! She has no idea we're coming!"

He swallowed thickly. "I'll text her right now."

Molly shook her head, muttering a few choice words beneath her breath as he took out his mobile.

He cleared his throat, before proceeding to read out his mother's replies: "She says 'Wonderful!', and she is both 'shocked and pleased' and 'is certain that you had something to do with it'."

Molly snorted a laugh. "Wise woman." She snuggled up against his side proceeded to nap for the rest of the drive while Sherlock fiddled with his phone. He gently nudged her awake when they arrived as Marian Holmes rushed out to greet them, followed at a much slower pace by Siger.

"Oh I am so happy that you both are here!" Marian exclaimed. "Well done Molly in convincing my ridiculous boy to agree to it!" She gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Siger shook his head. "Admit it son, we cannot say no to our wives!"

They made their way into the house, the driver of the car bringing in the luggage.

"I must tell you though, Sherlock," Marian said before she made her way into the kitchen to get them tea, "that your father and I have made plans for New Year's Eve; there's a dance in the village that is being done by my Bridge club. We agreed to go because I didn't hear back from you and I honestly didn't think you would come!"

Molly placed her hand on Sherlock's arm, stopping him from snapping out what would surely be a berating comment.

Marian continued, not noticing this little exchange, "You both are of course quite welcome to join us if you like."

Sherlock glanced briefly at Molly. "A dance? With this?" He tapped at his cast with the tip of his crutch. "I think not."

Marian shrugged. "Suit yourself." She entered the kitchen, leaving them to follow Siger into the front room.

After tea, and a surprisingly exciting game of Operation, Sherlock and Molly went upstairs to do a bit of unpacking. He breathed out a great sigh of relief once they made it into his bedroom, dropping down onto the bed.

"Damn my leg!" he groused.

Molly laughed. "You sound like John."

He shot towards her a glare of daggers, making her laugh all the more. He sighed and leaned back against the pillows.

"So we traveled all this way and will be spending New Year's alone anyway," he muttered.

"Well if you hadn't spent two days in your Mind Palace, and told your mother yes right away she wouldn't have gone and made other plans!" Molly retorted.

He humphed.

"If it makes you feel any better, we will be having the house to ourselves tomorrow night," she noted.

His look of disgruntlement disappeared. "That is _very_ true!" He reached out for her, tugging her down beside him so that she could press a kiss to his lips.

"Maybe it will snow while we're here! Wouldn't that be fun? I always loved playing in the snow," she said to him with a smile.

He shook his head. "And you have the audacity to call me a child."

"Oh hush." She pushed herself up off of the bed and walked over to their suitcase.

They returned downstairs a little while later, and Siger and Sherlock went outside, most likely to go and look at Siger's newest interest; his restored 1949 Royal Enfield Bullet. Molly hadn't known that Sherlock liked motorcycles, but it certainly sounded like it from the way he was rattling off about the different models. She stayed inside, insisting that she help Marian with dinner. They worked together quietly for a time, but once the roast was in the oven, and the potatoes were boiling Marian sat down at the table and patted the chair beside her.

"Out with it Molly, I know there is something you want to ask me," Marian said to her as she poured them each a glass of red wine.

Molly sat, fingering the stem of the wine glass. "What made you decide to put an end to your career and start a family?" she asked.

Marian's expression grew fierce. "Has my son been pestering you to have children?"

"No! Quite the opposite!" Molly replied.

The fire in Marian's eyes abated. "Good. I know he can become rather intense once he gets a certain idea in his head."

Molly took a sip of her wine. "He's mentioned it a few times, but he has been supportive in my lack of ... current interest."

Marian studied her for a few moments. "I chose to put an end to what could have very possibly been a brilliant career because I wanted my children to have a _home._ Not just a place where they laid their heads at night, but a true home, a home that was filled with love and laughter, where they could play and be happy. I wanted them to grow up with the presence of both their parents being in their lives, not just one or the other." She paused, looking thoughtful.

"Have there been days where I have regretted my decision? I am sorry to admit that yes, there have been. But now that I look back on my life, I am happy with the choice I made. And I am in no way sorry to admit that I was determined to rear up three brilliant sons, albeit three rather odd brilliant sons. For the latter I blame my husband."

Molly laughed. Marian leaned forward and placed her hand on top of hers.

"There is no wrong or right time to have children," Marian said to her. "And I know that all married couples tend to be pressured into doing so, more often than not by other married couples with children, as if it was some sort of duty that _must be fulfilled_! And yes, it would be nice to have a grandchild or two; lord knows if Mycroft and Anthea will ever ... perhaps best not; don't need the head of the British Government being interrupted with a nappie change!" Marian snorted out a laugh. "What am I saying? He'd hire someone to do that for him ... anyway, I'm going off track. Don't allow anyone to convince you to do something that you do not one-hundred percent want to do. It is _your_ body; it is _your_ right to make the ultimate decision."

Molly nodded. "Thank you."

Silence fell for a time.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Marian questioned.

"Yeah ... it's just ... with both our jobs ... how could we possibly be good parents? Sherlock will go off, disappearing for days on a case, while I get stuck with the brunt of the child-rearing. And he'll try to bring the baby to a crime scene I just know it. And yes, there is a crèche at Barts, but what sort of life is that for a child?" She buried her face in her hands.

Marian slipped her arm around Molly's shoulders. "You're thinking too negatively. I have a very strong feeling that Sherlock will want to be a huge part of his child's life; he'll view it as an on-going experiment. Ehhh ... that's perhaps not the most paternal of view-points, but you know what I mean." Molly nodded, and Marian continued, "And Barts knows how lucky they are to have you, they will work with you to set up your schedule, I am sure of it."

Molly dropped her hands away. "Thank you Marian, you are the voice of reason."  
"HA! Now that is a title I never thought I'd be given!"

By the time Sherlock and Siger returned to the house the two women were giggling over their wine glasses.

* * *

The next day dawned grey and gloomy, due to the fact that it was snowing. Molly squealed with delight when she saw this. Sherlock merely grumbled and moved onto his side, covering his head with this pillow. She gave him a gentle shove, refusing to allow his morning grumpiness to get to her. Sadly it ended up being quite a light dusting, but it still looked beautiful.

After breakfast she managed to convince him to join her outside, much to his dismay, and only for her to wallop the back of his head with a loosely packed snowball.

"Molly!" he cried, annoyed that his cast kept him from following her out into the garden. He glared at her, and hobbled as close to the snow as he could manage, all the while she giggled and tried her best to decide where she could tuck herself away, certain that his aim would be rather good. "Blast it all!" he grumbled as the snow refused to cooperate.

She slowly came closer to him, still giggling. He muttered several curse words beneath his breath.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to make a snowball?" she questioned.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "No. I taught myself. This snow is too dry, that's the problem."

"Hmmm … too bad."

She was beside him now, thinking that it was perfectly safe to do so. She was wrong. With a quick move he sent a handful of snow down the front of her coat and shirt.

"AHHH! Christ that's cold!" she shrieked as she jumped away from him, shaking out her shirt.

He doubled over with laughter.

"You beast!" she cried as she pummeled him with her fists. He continued to laugh before he grabbed her wrists, and pulled her to him so that he could kiss her.

Neither one of them were aware that his parents were watching them; Marian and Siger had been shaking their heads, but now were smiling before they moved off to continue with what they were doing, pleased to see how very happy Sherlock and Molly were. They made their way back inside a few minutes later, their cheeks flushed, and not entirely from the cold.

Marian walked passed the kitchen carrying a basket of laundry. "Oh Sherlock, your father came across a box of your old things when he was cleaning out the attic a few weeks ago. It's in the sitting room, please look through it and see if there is anything you want, otherwise it's going to be tossed into the bin."

Molly's eyes lit up. "Oh! What do you think is in there? Things from your childhood?"

He frowned as she followed him to the sitting room. "Most likely things of sentiment that I thought I needed to keep." He rolled his eyes when he saw the size of the box. He lifted it and placed it on the coffee table and sat on the sofa. "Oh good God," he muttered beneath his breath.

She bit back a smile as he lifted out a three-cornered pirate hat. He scowled at it. Just as he was about to toss it away she grabbed it and placed it upon her head. Before he could say anything she leaned forward and whispered suggestively into his ear, "Goes rather well with my pirate wench costume, does it not?"

He blinked for a moment then nodded. She popped it off and set it aside as he continued to look through the box. There was a small wooden sword, a fake pistol, and an eye patch; she placed these with the hat, after giving him a saucy wink. He returned to the box after clearing his throat then suddenly grew still when he saw a stack of small black leather books.

"Oh, I forgot about these," he said softly. He held them for a moment, staring down at them.

"What are they?" she asked.

He smiled "A collection of my first deductions."

They settled back into the sofa and he read out to her what he had written. Most of it was rather inquisitive and ingenious for a young child, but that was honestly not a surprise.

Morning ebbed into afternoon during his reading, and Siger brought them a tea tray. He gave them both a warm smile before leaving the room. Molly poured them each a cuppa, snagging a biscuit from the plate.

"These are wonderful, Sherlock," she said to him as she held the books in her hand, once he was finished. "It's like getting a glimpse of you when you were younger. Thank you for sharing them with me."

He kissed her cheek. "Of course I'd share them with you, you're my wife. And I knew you'd appreciate it, John would probably just have laughed."

They continued to look through the box, a blush coming to his cheeks.

"Damn, I was hoping this wouldn't be in here." He held up a small bear that had been clearly well loved.

"Awww!" Molly took it from him, smiling down at it. "Does he have a name?"

"Blackbeard," he mumbled beneath his breath.

Her smile widened. "You are _not_ getting rid of this; wouldn't it be nice if you could give him to our child to play with?"

He blinked. "Yes, yes it would," he agreed. Her comment had surprised him, but he decided that it was best not to make a fuss about it.

There wasn't much else left in the box, except for a single sock and a rogue button, these she allowed him to get rid of. After he placed the items that she wanted him to keep back into the box she closed it up and put it by the front door for them to bring back with them when they went home. A few minutes later Siger and Marian came down the stairs, all dressed up.

"Wow, you two look fantastic!" Molly exclaimed.

Siger smiled, straightening his bow tie.

"There is plenty in the kitchen for you two to make a meal out of," Marian told them, pausing to give Sherlock a look; a look that clearly expressed to not leave the place a mess.

"Thank you Marian," Molly replied. " _I'm_ sure we'll find something."

Marian gave a reassured nod, and walked out the front door, Siger close behind her.

"Have fun!" Molly called out to them.

As soon as the door was shut Sherlock pulled her into his arms.

"Alone at last!" he declared.

"Ooo … you're not hungry?" she questioned as he mouthed at her throat.

"Not for food!"

"Perhaps we should – ahh – go upstairs?"

He pulled his lips away from her clavicle. "Mmm … that would perhaps be the wisest thing to do."

The moment they were in his bedroom he returned his mouth to her throat and began to nip at her skin as he hastily unbuttoned her blouse. She struggled to focus on undressing him as his both his lips and fingers proved to be a rather welcome distraction. Eventually they did manage to get naked, holding each other close as they kissed deeply. When they parted for breath she looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled coquettishly.

"Lie down upon the bed, on your back," she instructed.

He did so, propping his leg up on a pile of pillows. She climbed up beside him and leant forward so that she could give his length a quick lick, from bollocks to tip, making him hiss out a breath. After sitting up she straddled his hips, facing away from him, and wiggled her bottom; chuckling as she looked at him over her shoulder.

"I know how much you like the view," she told him, smiling deviously.

He smoothed his hands over her arse. "Mmm … I do." He gave a cheek a quick slap, making her yelp.

"Naughty!" she gasped out.

"Is that referencing me or you?" he questioned.

"Oh hush!" She reached beneath her, grasping his cock in her hand, before tilting forward so that he was gifted with the sight of his length being enveloped by her wet, pink sex. She hummed in delight as she sank down, taking him in fully.

"Christ Molly!" he groaned out.

She angled her body towards his good leg, and began to ride him. "Oh you feel so good like this!" she moaned.

He kneaded and massaged the cheeks of her arse as she continued to roll her hips, lifting herself almost completely up and off of him before sliding back down. Her movement's were slow, a glorious torture.

When he suddenly slipped his hand around to the front of her, to stroke at her swollen clit, she cried out in shock and began to ride him, _hard_. They both came only moments later, crying out their release.

Sherlock pulled her down on top of him, her back pressed to his chest, his arms crossed over her torso. He nuzzled at her neck, breathing heavily. They lay like this, skin to skin, for some minutes, as their breath slowly returned to normalcy. She tilted her head to the side so that they could kiss.

"Shower?" she suggested.

"Mmmm … perhaps later." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, making her laugh.

"I suppose," she said, continuing to laugh softly, "We could shag our way into the New year!"

He bit down on her earlobe. "That sounds like a fantastic idea!" He uncrossed his arms. "But for the moment, I think your breasts require some attention." He covered them with his palms, gently massaging her soft flesh with his fingers.

She hummed happily then moaned when he pinched her nipples. He gave both breasts a tender squeeze before dropping his hands away.

"Face me," he instructed. "I want you in my mouth."

She did as he asked, situating herself over him so that her nipple hovered just above him. He slid his hands up her back, pressing down so that he could take her breast between his lips.

"Ohhhh …" she sighed as he swirled his warm, wet tongue over her skin.

She clutched at the back of his head, mewling and whimpering in encouragement, as he continued to suckle and bite. When he pulled away, both of her breasts were aching in the most delightful of ways, and peppered in marks from his teeth.

They kissed, cradling each other close, and the hours whiled away. Both of them were content with cuddling together beneath the sheets, sharing kisses and allowing their hands to wander. As midnight grew nearer, Molly went downstairs to the kitchen to gather up some food and drink. They fed each other bits of leftover roast and potato, neither one of them caring that it was cold.

Once the food was finished Sherlock pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply. His length was hard against her, making it quite clear what he intended for them to do next. She palmed at his erection, making him groan into her mouth.

"Turn about," he growled, pushing her hand away.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she did so. He kissed her neck and pressed his chest to her back, raising her leg slightly so that he could slide his cock into her. He filled her as deeply as he could go, holding onto her thigh before he began to thrust.

"Oh, mmmm!" Molly moaned.

"It's been too long since I've taken you from behind," he whispered into her ear, thrusting into her as hard as he could. "Fucckkk…" he groaned when she began to press her hips back against his.

They worked each other into a frenzy, both certain they weren't going to last long. He released her leg so that he could stroke at her clit, the room filling with the sounds of their laboured breathing, skin meeting skin and their quiet moans.

"Oh God Sherlock, I'm close!" she wailed.

"Mmm … so am I, come with me Molly!" He quickened the pace of his thrusts and his finger on her clit.

She reached back to clutch at his arse, and her blunt nails digging into his skin was what sent him over the edge. She cried out her release as he gave one final thrust.

Her body felt pleasantly boneless as they lay there. He curled his arm around her, breathing against her skin, his cheek pressed to her shoulder.

"Ahh … not quite midnight, oh well," she mumbled.

He brushed his nose against her. "I don't think I'll be ready to go again in three minutes," he admitted in a defeated tone.

She smiled as she turned over to face him. "That's quite all right; I am perfectly happy with entering into the New Year just like this." She snuggled closer to him and they kissed.

* * *

Two days later they returned to Baker Street. Toby was purring loudly, rubbing against both of their legs as they made their way into the flat. Sherlock was in a particularly good mood because Lestrade had just called him with a promising new case, rubbing his hands with glee. Molly just rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen to see if Toby was in need of any food.

"Do you want tea Sherlock?" she called out to him as she filled Toby's dish.

"Yes," he replied, before quickly tacking on, "Thank you!"

She shook her head as she filled the kettle. While she waited for the water to boil she grabbed up the post that was on the table and began to sort through it. She was surprised to find that there was a letter from Meena. Sherlock stepped into the kitchen just as she pulled out the envelope's contents.

"Oh." Her face paled, and she sat down rather hard in the kitchen chair as she stared at the letter and photograph she held before her.

"Molly?" Sherlock questioned softly, concerned by her reaction.

She laid the letter down upon the table, and stared straight ahead for a few moments before tilting her head to look up at him and said, "Meena is pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh ... so now we've got Mary pregnant (again) and Meena ... shall I make it the Three Musketeers and have Molly pregnant as well? *waggles eyebrows* We shall see ;)
> 
> As always, please leave a review, they make me so very happy :D


	46. Meena is Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now, it's been quite a wait, hasn't it?
> 
> Sorry about that ... my other fic "In the City that Never Sleeps" invaded my brain and wouldn't let me really write anything else!
> 
> I have been working away at this for a while and I am so happy it's done and I hope none of you mind that it's over 10,000 words long, heh.
> 
> I'll try and get the next one to you quickly ... but I think you've gotten used to having a bit of a wait, eh?
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY!

* * *

Molly laid the letter down upon the table and stared straight ahead for a few moments, before she tilted her head to look up at Sherlock. "Meena is pregnant," she told him.

He looked at her, unsure of what to say, so he sat down beside her. She continued to stare ahead blindly for a few more moments.

"I'm more shocked than anything really. Out of all my friends Meena was the one that was always so adamant about _never_ wanting children." Molly dropped her gaze and stared down at the photograph in her hand, which was of a sonogram of the baby.

Sherlock shifted in his chair. "Well … as I've heard John say … 'people change'."

She nodded in agreement. "I suppose." She continued to stare down at the photograph. "So first Mary, and now Meena … coincidence or …?"  
"The universe is rarely so lazy."

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. "Yeah..."

He brought his chair closer and reached out to take the photograph from her. He placed it on the table and took her hands in his. "Do you think the universe is trying to tell you something?"

She shrugged, staring down at their laced fingers. He brought his hand up and tapped her chin so that she looked at him. When he saw that her eyes were filled with tears he pulled her into his lap, cradling her close to him. She buried her face in chest, sniffling slightly.

"It's just … what if we try and I … I can't get pregnant?" she asked, sounding small and frightened.

He slowly breathed out, feeling as if he better understood her hesitation in starting a family. After pressing a kiss to the top of her head he gently nudged her away from him so that he could look at her.

"Why do you think that that is a possibility?" he asked, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"Condoms and birth control pills only work to an extent," she stated, "… and with the amount of sex we've had, it's amazing I haven't become pregnant. So … I just wonder, maybe I can't?"

She curled back up against him and he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

"You're perfectly healthy Molly, you're not too old, and if you cannot become pregnant the fault would most likely be mine, due to my previous drug use."

She locked her arms around his waist.

"There's tests that can be taken," he continued, "… to find out if my sperm is fertile and if you are capable of conceiving. "

"Sexy," she quipped.

He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead. "As I've told you before, the choice is entirely up to you. You know how I feel about it."

She nodded, tightening her hold around his waist. "The important thing right now is getting your leg fully healed. Your cast will be removed in a couple of weeks, and you'll have to go through physiotherapy."

He noted the quick shift in topic but decided to not comment, instead letting out an "Ughhh!" at the mention of the word 'therapy'.

She laughed slightly. "It's important Sherlock! You don't want to end up with a permanently damaged leg! How will you rush about London chasing criminals and solving crimes if you have you to use a cane like the one John had?"

He grunted, muttering beneath his breath that that would _never_ happen, making her laugh again.

It turned out to be just as Molly had predicted, exactly two weeks later Sherlock was freed from the confines of his cast. When he first looked at his leg it appeared to be slightly shrunken and far paler than the rest of his body. There were also two large scars, but they didn't bother him, he had many a scar.

Much to his annoyance though, he did limp about at first, his leg extremely stiff from not being properly worked for quite some time. When John offered him the use of his old cane, Sherlock very nearly pummeled him with it, much to John's amusement.

Mycroft assigned him a physiotherapist, Charles Muellier, the very same physiotherapist that MI6 used for their own agents. But if it hadn't been for Molly and her threat of withholding sex, Sherlock would have ignored the exercises that he was assigned to do; having claimed that he knew what his body needed better than anyone else.

The first day that he walked without a limp and any prominent stiffness in his leg he very nearly whooped with joy, and silently he had to admit that _Muller_ (the name Sherlock had given him just to annoy him) was in fact very precise and correct in his calculations. Shaking his head clear of these thoughts he turned his mind to far more important matters; i.e. the fact that he had every intention of shagging Molly into the mattress that evening at least once, if not twice. He practically pounced on her when she got home from her shift two hours later, and scooped her small frame into his arms.

"Oh my!" she cried in mock dismay as he carried her into their bedroom, and settled her down upon the mattress. "Have you been given the ok to do this?" she asked him, as he lowered himself down on top of her.

He nodded, before giving her another brief kiss. "Yes. And if you don't believe me, I had Muller put it in writing. Even John signed it, much to his own dismay."

She giggled, before reaching up to pull Sherlock down closer, it felt lovely to have his body fitting so snugly against her, and she couldn't wait until they were skin to skin. As they kissed they entered into a mad rush to remove each other's clothing, and the moment they were both entirely naked he covered the length of her body with his.

She hummed in delight, running her hands across his skin, stroking at his calf muscles with her feet. They kissed as he rutted against her, his cock nestling between her folds and gathering up her moisture. Opening her legs a bit wider, she reached down between them and took his length into her hand before placing the tip where she most needed him. In one swift move he was sheathed entirely by her wet heat.

"Oh God Sherlock! I've missed this!" she moaned as he began to thrust.

He grabbed ahold of her legs, raising them alongside his thighs. She crossed her ankles at his lower back, continuing to moan. Her hands were clutching at his neck, and he reached up and took them in his, lacing their fingers together before pressing them down into the mattress. After giving her a quick, passionate kiss he mouthed at her throat, and as his lips continued to travel downwards she arched her back so that he could suckle at her breasts.

Her noises grew in pitch and he quickened his thrusts, the bed shaking from his movements. He bit down on her nipple and she screamed out his name, her hands squeezing his. He pressed his forehead to the valley between her breasts as her walls convulsed around his cock. His thrusts became erratic, his hips stuttering. He moaned out a curse, then whispered her name before he managed one last solid thrust before his cock pulsed deep inside of her. His body buckled and he collapsed on top of her, releasing her hands.

When he started to move off of her she put her arms around him, and murmured softly, "Stay where you are. It's fine."

He did as she asked, perfectly content to do as she requested, nuzzling her breast with the tip of his nose. "That felt incredible," he said.

She made a hum of agreement, carding her fingers through his curls.

"There's nothing quite like having you beneath me," he stated in a matter of fact tone.

She chuckled. "Is that so?"

He pulled himself up so that he was hovering over her and she smiled at him.

"Oh yes!" he said to her. "I did rather enjoy you having free reign when I had my cast, but there really is nothing so beautiful as when you are lying beneath me with your legs wrapped around my waist, your breasts bouncing and your head thrown back as I fill you with my cock."

"God Sherlock!" Her flushed cheeks darkened.

He smiled impishly. "Oh … I forgot to mention one more thing," he murmured, his tone deepening as he dipped his head down, nibbling at her earlobe. "I also love hearing you scream my name as I make you come." His smile widened when he felt her shudder.

She cupped his face in her hands, bringing his mouth to hers so that she could kiss him deeply. They made love twice more that night.

* * *

The rest of January passed by quickly, Sherlock returning to his cases with a fury, and before Molly knew it, it was February. As her birthday grew closer she knew that he was up to something. She was curious to know what he had concocted, especially since he had quite outdone himself on her last birthday; dressing up as Khan. A slight shiver coursed through her body at the memory of that glorious night. She tried to come up with an idea of what he might have planned but decided to not allow herself to dwell on it, instead focusing on anticipating the surprise.

When her birthday arrived, Sherlock was in the midst of case that he had been working on over the last couple of days. He had been popping in and out of the flat, and making brief appearances in the lab and the morgue. It was much to her delight that he always made certain to give her a kiss hello and a kiss goodbye. He had just done so, kissing her a bit more deeply than his usual, muttering beneath his breath that it _was_ her birthday, before rushing from the lab in a flurry of excitement after finding a successful spore match. She giggled to herself, shaking her head as she too left the lab to go to her office.

After settling down at her desk and nudging her computer out of sleep mode, she logged into her Bart's account to look over her schedule. Her brow furrowed when she spotted that the next day was marked as 'Off'; she did not recall putting in a request. She giggled again, certain that this was thanks to Sherlock.

"Cheeky git," she muttered, rather pleased that this would be giving her a three day weekend.

When her shift ended later that evening, she decided to do a bit of food shopping before making her way to the flat, remembering that the cupboards and refrigerator were looking rather bare. She had told Sherlock that she didn't need a fancy meal just because it was her birthday, nor did she expect one, knowing that he was busy. And since she hadn't heard from him, she decided not to bother him with an inane text, asking if there was anything in particular he wanted her to pick up. She knew well enough what he liked.

Once she was finished and had returned home, she noted that Mrs. Hudson hadn't popped out to say hello as she usually did. Molly silently wondered if perhaps she wasn't in; possibly a bridge game or a new lover. She chuckled to herself as she climbed the stairs, shifting the bags in her hand so that she could open the door. Just as she entered the flat she caught sight of Sherlock who was stood by his chair. She gasped, her free hand coming up to her mouth, the other holding the bags of shopping limply at her side.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

He was dressed entirely in blue, all but for a red cloak that was draped over his shoulders. What truly caught her attention though was the large golden eye that lay upon his chest. After studying it for a moment she returned her gaze to his face, observing that he had once more slicked back his curls. He had even gone so far as to putting streaks of white at his temples, and grown facial hair. He was smiling at her, certain that she knew exactly who he was dressed as.

When he made to speak he was unable to get a word out for she let go of her shopping and barreled towards him. She launched herself into his arms and kissed him soundly. He held her tightly against him, returning the kiss.

"I love you so much!" she said breathlessly when they parted.

"Mmm … love you too. So is this better than what I did last year?" he asked.

"Oh yes … most definitely! Whatever gave you the idea to dress up as Doctor Strange?"

A sheepish expression crossed over his face. "I overheard you and Mary discussing the film. I had every intention of watching it, for _research_ , but never had the time to when I started working on that case for Lestrade. This," he gestured at the costume, "only just arrived last night."

Molly kissed him again. "Well, for once I must find myself saying thank you for listening in on a conversation! And this is rather lovely." She smoothed her hand across his chest, gently touching the golden eye. "But I think I prefer right now to see what is underneath." She looked up at him, an impish twinkle in her gaze. "Is all of this easy to get out of?" she questioned.

"With your help it will be!" he replied.

The cloak was hooked to his shirt, and he allowed the fabric to fall to a heap on the floor, the rest was easily removable. After toeing off his shoes and removing his socks, he stood naked before her. She hummed in delight, pleased to find that he was already hard. When she palmed at his length he hissed out a breath.

"Strange has magical powers, does he not?" Sherlock rumbled out, his voice thick with arousal.

"Yes … he does." She swirled her thumb around the head of his cock.

He grabbed at her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Shame those don't come with the costume, they'd be rather convenient in getting you naked."

She threw her head back and laughed, the sound sending a delighted thrill through his body.

"There's no need for magic," she told him. She quickly removed her flats, jumper, blouse and trousers, followed by her bra and knickers. "See?"

He grabbed her and pulled her naked body flush against his. "Mmmm … yes, I do see." He lowered his head and kissed her, as their tongues met she moaned into his mouth. "I think I need to take you to bed," he told her.

"Oh please do!"

They made their way into the bedroom, and she pushed away the blanket before she lay down upon the sheets. He quickly covered her body with his own and kissed her once more. She could feel his erection press against her belly.

"Happy Birthday Molly," he murmured between kisses.

She hummed against his lips, slipping her hand down over his back, stopping once she reached his arse. She gave a cheek a tender squeeze, while raising her hips up to meet his. "I need you deep inside of me Sherlock!" she told him breathlessly.

He muttered out a curse. "I had every intention of giving each part of your body equal attention."

She shook her head. "There will be plenty of time for that later, right now I need your cock in me!"

"Christ Molly," he groaned as she smiled wickedly at him. "Aren't you supposed to be calling me Stephen?"

She shook her head again.

"But isn't that the whole point of me dressing up for you?"

She giggled, cupping his face in her hands. "Seeing you in the costume was enough. I don't want Stephen, I want my husband to make love to me."

He gently murmured her name and kissed her sweetly. "I love hearing you say that."

"Say what? That I want you to make love to me?"

"Noooo … not that-although that is to say I do enjoy hearing you say that … but what I meant was that I-" He stopped when she started to laugh, making him glower at her.

She laughed again. "You're rambling."

"Hmph."

"Oh don't pout." She kissed the tip of his nose. "You were saying?"

"What I meant was-" He paused, making sure that she wasn't going to laugh at him again, but her expression was all attentiveness. "What I meant was that I love hearing you call me your husband."

"Mmmmmm … and I greatly love hearing you call me your wife!" She kissed him, sliding her hands down his back to his arse. She gripped the supple cheeks in her hands and pressed down. "Now please husband," she said breathlessly when she parted their kiss, "make love to your wife!"

He jumped slightly when she dug her nails into his skin, making her giggle before she kissed him again, briefly, only to pull away scrunching her nose.

"This isn't real, is it?" she asked, bringing her hand up to trace her finger along the mustache and goatee.

"No." He reached up and gently peeled it off. "I actually forgot I had it on." He tossed the fake facial hair to the side, making her laugh.

"You look rather good with it. Very distinguished!" she noted.

"Oh?"

"Mmmm, I always thought you looked rather hot when you came home after a long case; stubble is sexy."

He laughed, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. "You never cease to surprise me Molly."

She smiled, turning her head to the side to press a kiss to his fingers. "That's nice to know."

She gave his arse another squeeze then spread her legs further apart so that he could place himself more comfortably between them. His length nudged against her folds and she moaned, her back arching slightly. Taking his cock in his hand, he placed the head at her glistening centre.

"Ohhhh!"

He slipped in, pulled out then slipped in a bit further. He repeated this action several times before he gave her his entire length. She was so deliciously wet that he filled her with ease. He grew still as he kissed her and she whimpered against his lips, begging him to continue. He gave a quick, solid thrust, and she sighed happily.

After that first thrust he kept his movements slow and deep, his lips nuzzling at her cheek before moving to her throat. He palmed at her breast with his hand as she continued to squeeze the cheeks of his arse. She muttered curse words beneath her breath, and he switched the rotation of his hips so that his pelvis brushed against her at just the right spot.

"Fuck Sherlock!" she cried. "Fuck fuck fuck … ohh ohh!"

Each word that she uttered sent a thrill straight to his balls. Knowing that she was close, he quickened his pace, rather desperate for his own sweet release. She cried out his name, the tips of her fingers digging into his skin. The tightening of her walls surrounding his cock, milked from him his own orgasm. His hips stuttered and he gave one last thrust, pressing his body to hers.

"Molly!" he groaned into her neck. "My wife!"

She gave a delighted sigh, smoothing her hands up his back until they reached his curls. She gently massaged his scalp. Letting out a breath he pressed a smacking kiss to her skin then rolled off of her. She moved onto her side, draping her arm across his torso. He reached up and placed his hand on her forearm.

"Where did you get such a good replica of the costume?" she asked, snuggling against his chest. "It's quite impressive, well … at least from the brief look I got at it."

He stared up at the ceiling as he answered her, "Mycroft knows people who know people."

She blinked as she tried to make sense of his cryptic words. When the realization washed over her she felt her stomach jump to her throat. "Oh my God! Sherlock! That's _the_ actual costume?! The _real_ Doctor Strange costume? The one they actually used in the movie? That is lying on the sitting room floor right now?" Her voice had reached a pitch by the end of her last question, that certainly only dogs could hear

"Yeeessss," he replied, not quite understanding why she was reacting the way that she was.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, before jumping up from the bed and rushing out of the room.

"Molly!" he called out to her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to hang it up!" she called from the hallway. "What if Toby decides to lie on it? Gets his fur all over it, oh my God I would be mortified."

Sherlock sighed and got up from the bed, following her into the sitting room. He watched as she picked up the cloak and delicately handled it as if it were some great work of art. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's just a silly costume!" he groused.

"No it isn't," she retorted. "This probably cost a lot of money to make. And I don't even want to know how you managed to get your hands on it."

He shrugged. "Like I said, Mycroft has connections."

She stared at the fabric beneath her hands, stroking it gently. "Oh my God," she muttered, picking up the rest of the clothes, " _he_ wore this … AHHHHH!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again as she walked passed him, returning to the bedroom, and he followed her. He watched as she opened the wardrobe, took out a hanger and hung up the costume. She smoothed her hands over the cloak; making sure it hung correctly.

"Honestly Molly … would you rather have _him_ or me? _He's_ an actor, and is probably a complete arsehole in real life."

She giggled, but didn't say anything until the doors of the wardrobe were shut, the costume now out of danger from cat hair and anything else. She knew it would be safe there because Sherlock's wardrobe was a _sacred place_. She turned about and looped her arms over his shoulders, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest. She smiled up at him as she said, "I'd take _you_ over him any day. Because I know _you_ , and I love _you_ …"

"Good answer," he murmured before dipping forward to kiss her.

The kiss grew in passion as he nudged her towards the bed, and they fell down onto the mattress. He smoothed his hand down her side until it slipped around to cup her bum, and he gave the cheek a tender squeeze.

"Thank you Sherlock …" she said quietly, as she ran her fingers through his hair, pleased to find that he had not used as nearly as much gel as he had when he dressed up as Khan.. "You have most certainly surpassed what you did last year … by far!" She kissed him. "I wish you would let me do something for _your_ birthday."

"No!" he growled out, before nipping at her bottom lip. "Absolutely not."

She gave a huff. "Why can we celebrate mine, but not yours?"

"My birthday isn't important, yours is."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll just have to keep that pirate hat tucked away for a rainy day."

He chuckled. "You do that."

She kissed him again then suddenly pulled away. "Oh shit, I left the shopping on the floor."

He rolled his eyes. "What of it? Leave it for the morning, right now there are far more important things to tend to." He started to move her onto her back, but stopped when she gave him a gentle shove.

"Just let me put some of it away at least. There are a few things that shouldn't be left out."

He sighed and fell down upon the bed. "Fine, go right ahead."

She laughed softly when she saw that he was pouting. "I'll only be a moment, then we can continue!" She ran her fingertip down the length of his thigh, before giving the head of his half-hard cock a slight caress.

His body twitched and she pushed herself off of the bed just as he reached out to grab her. With a shriek of success she hurried from the room, gathered up her bags of shopping and put away only what was absolutely necessary before hurrying back to the bedroom.

Toby, who had been curled up on the sofa the entire time, eyed her with a hint of disdain before laying his head back down. He was certain that his two humans were going to be making a lot more noise. What strange creatures they were!

The noise did in fact continue, straight into the weekend. Sherlock had turned off his phone, wanting to devote his entire attention to Molly. She was at first surprised by this, but also pleased.

They spent the next three days in a lazy fashion, except for the moments when passion overtook them, which were many. Sherlock seemed to have taken the idea into his head that he was determined to shag her on nearly every surface in their flat. Be it bent over his desk as he took her from behind, her riding him as he sat in his chair, or her legs raised to his shoulders as she laid on the kitchen table whilst he fucked her deeply.

There were quiet moments though, and during these times they would lay side by side, their lusts momentarily sated, and Molly would often gently stroke his skin with her fingertips. Sometimes he would have his face pressed between her neck and shoulder, suckling at the tender flesh there; surely leaving a mark. Neither one of them felt the need to speak, enjoying the stillness, and the nearness of each other's bodies. When she would brush her fingers gently against his flaccid length, he would give a rumble of approval.

Repeatedly they explored each other's bodies as if they were unknown. Each of them took the time to listen and respond to the others ministrations, and they both managed to learn a few things. Sherlock discovered that Molly rather liked it when he kissed and nuzzled at the back of her knees. It was such an odd spot, but every time she shivered and moaned beneath his touch. Or perhaps it was because he would always press her knees down into the mattress, spreading her legs apart and baring her glistening sex. Molly found that she could make Sherlock become inarticulate whenever she licked or stroke the spot just where the base of his cock and bollocks met. His length would pulse and throb as she teased at the swollen head with her finger, all the while continuing to suck and lick the tender spot. That is until he managed to regain enough of his mental faculties in order to press her down onto her back, on whatever surface they may be near, and enter her in one swift thrust.

By the time Monday arrived Molly's entire body was sore and aching, but in the most delightful of ways. Although she did find that when she stood after she sat in her chair at her desk for too long, she would move about stiffly for several minutes. She also was riddled with love bites on her skin, a few that she struggled with figuring out how to cover.

Sherlock though was no worse for wear, appearing exuberant and ready for whatever fresh cases awaited him. He also had a new experiment he was determined to try. Thus two days later, when Molly returned home from her shift she found him sat at the kitchen table, the very table he had fucked her on twice that weekend, surrounded by pipettes, a beaker filled with a brown liquid and his microscope. For a moment she considered asking him what his experiment was, but when she spotted the liver she had brought home for him, she decided against it. Ignorance at times, was very much so, bliss.

Leaving him to his experiment she quickly showered and changed into comfy clothes, before returning to the kitchen. He was now studying something with his microscope, turning the knob with one hand while writing something down with the other.

"Have you eaten?" she asked him, uncertain if she would receive a reply. She didn't, which she decided to take as a no, all too aware of how he could get. She took out two of the takeaway containers from the other night and heated up the food.

It wasn't until a steaming plate was placed beside him that he leaned back from his microscope and stared at her.

"You're home," he stated, making her laugh.

"Yes, I have been for over an hour. Funny how you can spend an entire weekend devoting your full attention to me, but the moment you're working on an experiment you're entirely oblivious."

He frowned slightly. "I don't do that deliberately."

She laughed again and walked over to him, slipping her arms over his shoulders. "I wasn't complaining." She kissed him gently. "Please, feel free to continue with what you were doing, just eat what I heated up for you, ok?"

He nodded and gave her a kiss, then proceeded to devour the food she had given him. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, before she slowly tucked into her own food.

A little while later when she was doing the washing up, Sherlock's phone rang. She was humming to herself, not paying any attention to the conversation he was having until she suddenly felt Sherlock's arms slip around her waist.

"Lestrade has a case for me Molly! A 9! Possibly a 10!" he announced, between pressing kisses to the back of her neck.

She held back her smile, finding it adorable how excited he was acting; like a child on Christmas morning. He rushed off to get dressed, and just as she finished the dishes and was drying her hands with a towel he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and twirled his coat about him, slipping it on with ease. He then strode toward her and bent down to give her a kiss.

"Don't wait up for me," he said to her.

"Do I usually?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

He pretended to think for a moment. "No…" He gave her another kiss.

"Happy Solving!" she called out to him as he hurried from the kitchen.

He hummed in acknowledgement before leaving the flat. After pouring herself a glass of wine she settled down on the sofa and decided to watch a recent chick-flick that had just come out. It was best to watch these sorts of films when she was home alone, otherwise she would have to deal with Sherlock's anecdotes and sneers at the ridiculousness of it all.

Hours later, long after she had retired to bed, she was woken up by the sound of her text tone going off; several times in a row. Usually she silenced it during the night, but more often than not when Sherlock was working on a case she had chosen to keep the sound on.

Grumbling beneath her breath, she floundered about in the dark, searching for her phone which was on the bedside table. Upon finding it she let out a cry of dismay as the brightness of the screen nearly blinded her.

"Bloody hell!" she groaned, clenching her eyes shut. "Why do I always do this to myself?"

She opened her eyes to mere slits and quickly lowered the brightness, before opening her eyes further and unlocking her phone, taking note that the clock read four am. There were three texts, and they were all from Greg. She felt her heart plummet to her stomach, knowing all too well that if he was contacting her it wasn't for a good reason.

"Fuck," she muttered as she opened her messages. "Fucking fuck!"

_Sorry if I am waking you Molly, but I know that you would want to be told. - GL_

_Sherlock has been shot. Nothing fatal! Just a graze to the shoulder. - GL_

_He's being patched up now. I'll send him home in a cab as soon as he's finished. And John is ok, he managed to dodge the bullet. - GL_

Molly dropped her phone into her lap and buried her face in her hands. "Oh you absolute idiot!" she cried. After a few moments she picked up her phone to send reply.

_Thanks Greg. I'll be waiting for him. Glad John is ok. - Mx_

She tossed her phone off to the side and face-planted into her pillow. "Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!" she murmured into the fabric. After a few more moments of berating her fool of a husband she sat up and made her way out into the sitting room to wait for him. She switched on a lamp and sat in his chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

Toby was surprised to see her up, but pleased as well, rubbing against her ankles and purring. She absent-mindedly reached down to pet him, scratching him behind the ears. He gave a soft chirp before jumping up onto her lap. She pressed her face into his fur, and continued to wait.

It seemed like hours before she heard the front door open. She moved so quickly to her feet that Toby let out a hiss and scampered away. As she heard Sherlock come up the stairs she tried to steady her breathing, not knowing if she should feel angry or sad. All she did know was that she felt as if she were a bubble about to burst.

The flat door opened and he stepped inside. He looked weary and a bit bedraggled. She stepped towards him but stopped when she saw the dried blood on his cheek and neck. It took him several moments to realize that she was there, which was rather unusual for him.

He stared at her for a moment, looking oddly uncertain before saying, "My Belstaff has been ruined, I don't think it can be fixed. I'll have to get another one."

At that very moment she had never felt so furious in all of her life, and judging by the expression on his face he was well aware of it.

"SHERLOCK!" she shrieked. "I don't give a fuck about your stupid coat! What I do care about is that you have put both your life and John's in great danger. AGAIN! You could have been shot in the head!

"I love you for _you_ , but you seriously need to think about what you are doing. Everything is different now, it's not like when you and John first started. It's not just the two of you against the world anymore! He has a family, he has a wife and a daughter, and another child on the way that he very much so wants to return home to every night!"

She only paused long enough to take in a breath before continuing, "And _you_ have a wife Sherlock, and if you want to start having a family then I need you to reconsider about putting yourself at such great risk. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. You're not the NSY Sherlock! You're not trained like they are! Stick to the crime scenes, not the cases that make you think you need to run off and bring the criminal down yourself!" She stopped then, this time struggling to take in another breath; overcome with the emotions she hadn't realized she had been keeping bottled up.

"Molly …," he spoke gently as he stepped towards her and placed his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. He pulled her against him just as she proceeded to burst into uncontrollable sobs. He held her close, burying his nose in her hair, allowing her to have her cry as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured a few minutes later, once her sobs had subsided.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening his hold on her. "Don't apologize. You have every right to be upset. I should be the one apologizing. Everything that you said is true. I've been terribly selfish, not at all acknowledging how my lifestyle affects those I love." He gave the top of her head another kiss. "Let's go to bed."

She nodded and they made their way into the bedroom. He removed all of his clothes, taking care to not disturb the bandage wrapped around his arm and shoulder. It annoyed him, and he honestly didn't think he needed it. The bullet had barely grazed him, his coat taking the worst of it, but John had insisted; going on about infection and all that.

Molly stripped down as well, both of them sliding naked beneath the sheets. Sherlock cradled her in his arms, pressing gentle kisses on her cheeks, eyelids, forehead and nose. When she kissed him hungrily, pushing him down onto his back, he was surprised by her clear determination.

"Please Sherlock," she whispered to him in answer to his silent question. She placed her body on top of his, straddling his hips. "I need this."

He nodded, and dropped his hands down onto the bed, quite willing to give her everything and anything that she required. She kissed him briefly before moving until she was straddling his upper thighs. His cock was half-hard already, and when she took him in her small hand and gave him a few solid pumps, he was hard and pulsing in no time. After giving the swollen tip a tender kiss she situated herself over his cock, and in one swift move sank down onto him, burying his length completely inside of her.

A groan rumbled up from his chest, his veins thrumming from the shock of how quickly she allowed his cock to fill her. She only gave him a few seconds to adjust before she began to ride him, _hard._ Her breasts bounced with her movements and he wanted to reach up and grab them, but he wouldn't unless she asked him to. Her head was thrown back, and her eyes were closed, a look of pure ecstasy upon her face as she continued to move on top of him.

It felt incredible to allow her to take him like this. He clutched tightly at the sheets, feeling almost as if she had tied him up so that he was unable to touch her. She leaned back slightly, placing her hands on the top of his thighs, shifting the angle that he was entering her and giving him the perfect view of his cock moving in and out of her tight, glistening sex.

Her eyes hadn't opened the entire time, and she was moaning uncontrollably, not holding back with her noises in the slightest, nor slowing in her movements. When her moans grew louder he was certain that she was close to orgasm.

"Give me your hand," she whimpered, still keeping her eyes closed as she held out her own, not slowing her pace.

He did as she asked and she placed his hand onto her breast, before dropping her hand back down to his thigh. He squeezed her breast, gently toying with the nipple.

"Oh yes!" she gasped out. "Fuck! Touch my clit, Sherlock! Please! I need you to touch my clit!"

He kept his one hand on her breast and the other he brought up to where they were joined. His fingers managed to brush up against the part of his cock that currently wasn't inside of her, making him groan, before his fingertip landed squarely on her clit. A low wail escaped her as he began to stroke the swollen nub. He pinched her nipple and she screamed out his name, dropping down onto him, their hips pressing together. That last solid movement of her body took him with her, his orgasm soaring through his veins as he groaned out her name.

All of her energy seemed to leave her body and she fell against him. He took her in his arms, softly whispering to her as he brushed her hair away from her face. She tilted her head back, her eyes still closed, offering her mouth for a kiss. He did so and she hummed contentedly.

"I love you Sherlock, please don't ever forget that," she said quietly.

He nuzzled her neck. "I never will Molly, and I'll never stop loving you."

She tucked her arms around him, pressing her body against his, listening to the beat of his heart. Both of them fell asleep within minutes, locked in the comfort of each other's embrace.

Molly woke first the next morning, noticing that it was just passed eleven. She sighed happily when she felt the warmth of Sherlock's body beside her. She moved onto her side, facing him. He was lying on his stomach, his face half hidden by his pillow. She reached out and tenderly touched the bandage on his arm, taking note that his injury didn't appear to have bled throughout the night.

"Ishdishntshirt."

She moved her eyes to his face, realizing that he had spoken. "Hmmm?"

He shifted his head, but kept his eyes closed. "It doesn't hurt," he repeated.

"I'm glad to know." She leaned forward. "But I think I should still give it a kiss."

"Mmm … please do."

She smiled as she pressed her lips to the bandage. He opened his eyes and peered up at her sleepily.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. I didn't mean it," she told him.

He shifted onto his back, pulling her down on top of him. "Yes you did." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Everything that you said was true. I've always asked too much of you, of everyone." He smoothed his thumb across her cheek. "Remember how I said at John and Mary's wedding that I've never made a vow in my life, and that I never would again after that night?"

She nodded, wondering what he was getting at.

"Well," he continued, "I have made another vow since then, on _our_ wedding day. And right now I am going to make another." He swallowed before saying, "I vow to you that from this day forward I am going to endeavour to be a better husband, a better son and a better friend. But most of all a better husband, because you deserve the best Molly, which really means that you never should have married me in the first place-"

She brought his sentence to an end with a kiss. "You really need to stop saying I never should have married you."

He noted that she was smiling, so he knew that she wasn't annoyed with him. She gave him another kiss.

"I married you, and now you are stuck with me," she declared, "no matter what!"

"Oh woe is me!" he cried dramatically, making her laugh, before he pinned her to the mattress.

They kissed for several minutes, hands wandering, stroking each other's skin. When they parted for breath he pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

"I noticed you didn't mention being a better brother," she said suddenly.

He harrumphed and moved onto his back. "Damn. I hoped you wouldn't. I didn't say that because Mycroft won't allow it."

It was Molly's turn to harrumph. "He worries about you, he always has. And what about Sherrinford? You don't think you should be a better brother to him?" She snuggled up against Sherlock, her chest pressed to his.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll endeavour to be a better brother."

She giggled, shrieking slightly when he gave her bottom a pinch. "You made that sound like it was the most painful thing in the world to say!"

He gave her skin another pinch. "It wasn't. Truly. And I've already decided how I can be a better brother to Mycroft!"

She raised her head and looked at him with a suspicious gaze.

"I'll send him a cake!" he announced.

She rolled her eyes and dropped her head down to his chest. "That's not being a better brother Sherlock, and you know it."

He sighed again. "But it's so much fun!"

She shook her head. "You're hopeless."

He rolled them so that she was on her back, and brought his lips to her ear and nibbled.

"Stop it!" she said as she laughed, pushing him away. "You must be hungry."

"Mmmm … for you I am!"

She slid away from him. "Well I'm hungry for food!"

He pouted. "Urghh cooking!"

She bit down on her bottom lip, finding herself agreeing with him. "Beans on toast?"

"All right."

They each put on a dressing gown and went into the kitchen. Toby chirruped and purred at them, looking for his own food. A short while later all three of them were fed. The two of them were now lounging on the sofa, and Toby was sat upon Sherlock's chair cleaning himself. Sherlock was eyeing the feline with an unhappy expression.

"Think we should go back to bed?" she asked him. "I don't have work until later tonight."

"Mmm, in a minute."

She chuckled, knowing his tenacity for laziness. He rubbed his nose against her shoulder, lightly stroking her belly. She let out a gasp, followed by a low moan, when he slipped his hand beneath her dressing gown and settled it between her legs. He circled her clit with the pad of his finger, teasing her, before sliding his finger further down and circled her opening. He made a noise of satisfaction when he felt how slick she was already.

"It doesn't take much," she whimpered, "I'm always wet for you!"

He hissed out a breath and thrust his finger into her, pressing his thumb to her clit.

"Oh fuck!" she moaned, as he tilted his hand and moved his finger inside of her in a 'come hither' motion. She held onto his wrist as she began to rotate her hips so that her clit moved against his thumb. As she arched her back her dressing gown opened further, revealing her breasts. He took one taut nipple between his lips and suckled as she continued to work herself towards orgasm.

Within a matter of seconds she was crying out, and he could feel her walls clenching around his finger. Her body dropped down onto the sofa as she sighed happily. Pulling his hand from her, he released her nipple and brought his finger to his mouth. She opened her eyes and watched as he sucked his finger clean.

"God Sherlock!" she gasped, "Are we always going to be like this? So hungry for each other?"

He smiled and kissed her before replying, "I'd like to think so. And speaking of hungry ..." He pressed his hardened length against her. "I think it's time we return to bed!"

She nodded in agreement and he scooped her into his arms. Their dressing gowns were tossed to the floor prior to them falling down upon the bed. The head of his cock was shiny with pre-cum and he was desperate to be buried deep within her wet warmth. But when he moved to press her down onto her back she shook her head and rolled onto her stomach. He breathed in sharply when she raised her bum from the bed, baring herself to him.

"I know you like to take me like this," she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

He only moaned in response before he leaned forward and gave her glistening folds a quick swipe with his tongue. She cried out, grabbing tightly onto the sheets. He kneeled behind her, giving her hips a slight tap. She positioned herself more comfortably, and he slid into her with ease, not stopping until his balls pressed against her.

"Mmmm … oh yeah. Just like that!" she encouraged.

After muttering a curse he began to thrust, unable to keep still any longer, making sure to fill her entirely.

"Ahh! Ahh! Yes! Yes!" she panted in time with his thrusts. Her knuckles were white as she held tighter onto the sheets; it just felt so good. She began to babble, letting him know just how incredible he felt and how much she loved having him fuck her.

The moment she spoke the word 'fuck' his hips stuttered. She smiled impishly as she glanced at him over her shoulder. He quickened his pace and she cried out in delight. His balls were smacking against her clit each time that he entered her, sending fissures of pleasure throughout her body, and she knew that she would be coming soon.

"Your cock feels so good inside of me!" she cried. "Oh! I'm going to come! I'm going to come! Come with me Sherlock!"

He gasped out her name when he suddenly felt her hand cup his balls, and only managed one last thrust. She continued to gently massage him, whimpering quietly as her walls pulsed and fluttered around his cock. When she dropped her hand away he slipped out of her and fell down upon the bed. She relaxed her body, turning her head towards him and smiled widely.

"Keep doing things like that and I don't think we'll ever grow tired of shagging each other!" he said to her.

Her smile grew even wider before he kissed her.

They spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon in bed, periodically dozing, kissing and caressing. After making love one more time, slowly and leisurely, they got into the shower so Molly could start getting ready for work. After drying off he sprawled out upon the bed naked, watching her as she dressed.

"There's plenty in the fridge to make yourself a sandwich, please do eat something!" she said to him as she pulled on a pair of trousers. "Oh and there's a bag of thumbs in there. I brought them home yesterday."

He jumped up from the bed and took her into his arms, before kissing her soundly.

"That for a bag of thumbs? Mmm, a just reward!" she said with a smile.

He gave her another kiss.

"Stop it you, or I'll be late for work!"

He returned to the bed, continuing to watch her as she finished dressing.

"Do you think you'll be home tonight when I get back, or that Lestrade will have a case for you?" she asked.

"I'll be here," he replied.

She looked at him for a moment then bent down and gave him a kiss. "See you later then."

"Mmhmm."

Upon arriving at Barts she worked steadily on autopsies for several hours. After getting a sandwich and an apple from the canteen she went into her office to file the paperwork.

While she ate she did some puttering about on her computer, until she came upon an idea. She typed in the name of Sherlock's university, curious to see if she could find a photo of Victor. After a bit of searching, and just when she was about to give up hope, she came upon a class photo.

"Well, Sherlock certainly downgraded in the looks department by choosing me," she muttered beneath her breath.

"He most certainly did not."

She let out a faint squeak as she looked up at Mycroft who was stood in her doorway. He stepped into her office and walked around her desk.

"You are a beautiful woman Molly, you should never believe otherwise," he said to her.

She blushed faintly. "Thank you."

"It is rather fitting that you were researching Victor, seeing as I came here purposely to talk to you about him."

"Oh?"

Mycroft gave the tiniest of nods. "Yes. I made contact, and I explained the situation. I left the decision entirely to him. He will either come here and speak with Sherlock, or he won't. It is his choice."

Molly thought silently for a moment, realizing for the first time that perhaps Victor wanted absolutely nothing to do with Sherlock. "Thank you for doing that. I appreciate it."

Mycroft gave another nod. "You never said anything to him." This was not a question, but a statement.

Her gaze dropped to her lap. "No, I haven't. I was worried about what his reaction may be. But deep down I know that he needs to speak with Victor."

"Mmm ... and so do you."

She looked up at Mycroft, frowning slightly, not certain what to make of his choice of words.

"How is his shoulder?" he asked.

She wasn't remotely surprised that he knew about Sherlock's injury. "He's perfectly fine. It was barely a graze," she answered.

"And how are you?"

She looked away from him, knowing exactly why he was asking what he was.

"I was upset at first, very upset. And I said some things that I probably shouldn't have, selfish things."

Mycroft took a step closer to her. "You have every right to be selfish Molly. For years I have tried to control him, contain him, and I have failed every time. I have failed him more times than I can remember. He can't go on the way that he has, it's incredible that he has made it thus far. I am certain that every word you said to him that night was honest and true, and he deserved to hear them. If anyone can save him from himself, it is you."

She shook her head, fighting back tears. "What makes me so special from everyone else?"

He held his handkerchief out to her and she took it gratefully.

"You love him, in a way that neither myself, nor my mother or father, and not even John ever can."

She sniffled loudly, wiping away the few tears that had fallen. "Thank you Mycroft, you always manage to make me see things more clearly."

He gave her a warm smile. "What sort of big brother would I be if I couldn't at least do that?"

* * *

It was nearly March now, and Sherlock had stuck true to his promise. Daily he went through his emails and solved what he could from there, even the ones that he claimed a child could figure out. After that he consulted in the flat with the few clients who proved more promising and deserved a more one-on-one. Then he took whatever cases Lestrade had for him, even if they were nothing more than a three.

When Lestrade was informed of the changes Sherlock was making, he was rather pleased with the prospect. He greatly admired the Consulting Detective, and wanted to keep him around for as long as possible. There had been too many close-calls recently, as well as over the past several years. He was well aware of how dangerous this line of business was, and he also knew that Molly was too, it was Sherlock that he wasn't so certain about. He had always hated when Sherlock had gotten the grand idea into his head that _he_ needed to track and bring down the criminal himself. They had trained men for that sort of thing for Christ's sake! And at first he was slightly speculative, unsure of how easily Sherlock would ease into this new way of life. But he was surprised by the sheer determination he showed in sticking to it. It was very clear to Lestrade that Sherlock's love for Molly, exceeded all else.

Lestrade was not the only one with concerns, Molly had her own fears as well. She worried that Sherlock would be miserable, and eventually come to resent her for making him change his lifestyle, but she was in for a surprise of her own. He was thriving, and seemed to be happier than ever.

One night, after a rather voracious bout of lovemaking, she decided to ask him about it. Remembering all too well when John had told her how he could get without a good case. She was somewhat shocked by Sherlock's answer, but also rather pleased.

"My problem was that I had too much pent up energy," he explained. "I could run off it for days and days, going without food, and barely any sleep. But once the case was solved, and I had gotten the sleep I needed, and fed my body, I was still riddled with it. That was why I was always so desperate for another case." He rolled onto his side and smoothed his hand down the length of her. "But you my darling Molly," he paused to nuzzle at her jawline, "and your glorious body, have proven to be exactly what I needed."

She turned her head and their lips met in a gentle kiss. "I thought that without 'the work' your mind would rot?" she questioned.

He toyed her bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. "I thought the same, but no _p_ e." He moved on top of her, their bodies nestling together. "Without _you_ my mind would rot. You calm me, you keep me sane." He pressed his lips to hers again. "It is your constancy, your sweetness, and your love, without all of that I would be lost."

She shook her head and buried her face against his neck. "I can't possibly be capable of that."

"Oh but you are." He cupped the side of her face in his hand, and gently tilted her head back so that he could look into her eyes. "You are Molly. You are my saviour." He kissed her and she reached up to hold him close.

A week later she came down with a fever and a cough, forcing her to stay home for several days, and Sherlock had been coddling her ever since. He would curl up with her in their bed, reading to her from her favourite novels, and when they switched to the sofa, between bringing her soup and tea, he would curl up with her once more while they watched her favourite films.

Two days later Greg called Sherlock with a triple murder case, and she insisted that he go. As much as she enjoyed the attention it was getting slightly out of hand. Upon returning to the flat that evening, it was clear to her that he was disgruntled. She asked him what was wrong, and he told her that he was annoyed that he had to deal with what he called 'a second-rate pathologist'. But when she suggested that she could go in just to work on the autopsies from the murder scenes, he outright refused.

"That wasn't what I was implying in the slightest, Molly!" he berated gently. "It's just that it's a shame that Barts cannot seem to hire any other pathologists that are of your caliber."

She giggled, not sure if it was the fever or not, but she couldn't help but find the furrow between his brows to be adorable. "Simons isn't all that bad. He can get a bit lazy with his paperwork, but when it comes down to it, he is detailed. He actually managed to find something I overlooked the other day!"

Sherlock eyed her with an expression that showed he didn't believe her. She rolled her eyes and settled back down into the sofa.

It wasn't until two more days had passed that she finally started to feel better. And even though she was, Sherlock had insisted that she not return to work quite yet. He had solved the murder case and was now working on a bank robbery, having left early that morning.

Now that she was alone in the flat, and with returned energy, she decided that a bit of tidying up was in order. She wasn't going to do anything too major though, knowing that Sherlock would notice any little thing and scold her.

She was humming quietly to herself, not even realizing that it was the song 'The Hills are Alive'. She hadn't watched _The Sound of Music_ in ages, so if she had been in fact paying attention to what she was humming she would have most likely been surprised, but instead she was oblivious to the fact. She was holding a small stack of books and returning them to their proper shelf, when the doorbell rang. Due to the fact that Mrs. Hudson was away on holiday Molly had no choice but to answer the door herself. She shook her head as she made her way down the stairs, deciding that both she and Sherlock needed to learn to depend a little less on the older woman.

Upon reaching the door she unlocked it and pulled it open. A tall, lean man was stood before her, dressed in a rather distinguished looking navy blue pea coat and dark trousers. His dark hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and there was a faint hint of pink upon his cheeks. But what set her heart pounding was his warm and friendly smile.

"Hello, correct me if I'm wrong, but is this not the residence of Sherlock Holmes?" he questioned. His voice was soft, and gentle, with a faint lilt of an American accent beneath the prominent English.

Molly's eyes widened in disbelief as her mouth dropped open. She had only seen his picture once, but that was enough for her to be able to know who the man was that was stood before her. "Oh my God!" She slowly raised her hand to her lips. "You're Victor!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!
> 
> MUAHAHAHAAHAHA ... errr...
> 
> I had the idea of Sherlock dressing up as Strange since way back in July ... hope you all enjoyed that ;)
> 
> Please leave a review! They definitely keep me wanting to write more :D
> 
> Oh yeah, and PLEASE NOTE I don't have a tumblr anymore, I deleted thesecitystreets and sherlockian87 - the sherlockian87 that is on tumblr IS NOT ME clearly someone took my name?! wtf ...


	47. You're Victor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't too horribly of a long wait now was it? :)
> 
> Anyway ... we have come to Victor at last!
> 
> There's a few **TRIGGER WARNINGS** here:
> 
> There are mentions of suicide, and drug use, and death. But nothing extremely detailed.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, there were parts I really had fun writing and I hope you'll enjoy reading them :)

* * *

"Oh my God!" Molly covered her mouth with her hand. "You're Victor!"

He nodded. "Yes, I am. And you're Molly, Sherlock's wife."

For a very brief second she wondered if he was safe to be around, then realized that if he hadn't been he never would have managed to make it this close to Baker Street.

She dropped her hand away and smiled warmly at him. "Please come in!" She opened the door wider, and he stepped inside. "I'm so happy to meet you!" she continued as they walked up the stairs. "Sherlock has told me quite a bit about you."

Victor's eyes widened with shock. "Has he?"

"Yes." She hesitated before adding, "the good and the bad."

He made a small noise in the back of his throat just as they entered the flat.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"That would be lovely, thanks."

Molly stepped into the kitchen just as Toby came out from under the sofa to inspect the new visitor.

"Well hello there!" Victor said to him before squatting down and holding his hand out to the cat. He briefly sniffed his fingers before head-butting Victor's hand. Clearly giving his stamp of approval.

"That's Toby," Molly said as she walked out with a tray laden with tea things. "Consider yourself lucky, he doesn't often take to strangers." She set the tray down on the table beside John's chair.

Victor straightened and sat down, watching silently as she poured him a cup.

"Thanks," he said when she handed it to him.

After pouring herself a cup she sat in Sherlock's chair.

"I'm sorry that my husband isn't home right now, he's out on a case," she explained.

Victor smiled. "I'm not surprised, he was always rushing about when I knew him."

"Are you in London for long?" she asked.

Victor took a sip of his tea before replying, "Only a couple of days." He took another sip then said, "I read that you're a pathologist."

She nodded, feeling the tips of her ears tinge pink.

"That must be quite a fascinating job. I was always shit with anatomy, I could never remember the names of bones."

Molly laughed. "It is, I do enjoy it. What do you do?"

"I'm a Market Regulation Analyst for the _New York Stock Exchange_ ," he replied.

"Oh! Sherlock had told me you had a brain for mathematics."

"Mmmm." He continued to drink his tea.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what was Sherlock like when you knew him?"

Victor took one final sip then set down his cup. "Over the years I've tried to come up with a word to describe him, and 'unsettled' seems to be the one I've always come back to. He was a bit all over the place, his brain working faster than his body could keep up. I think that's why he took to cocaine. It was the one way that he could calm down, slow his mind. It was bizarre. I remember the first time I watched him take a hit, it was like he turned into an entirely different person." Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and frowned. "I hate admitting this, and I've only just been able to admit it to myself, but … I preferred the high Sherlock, to the sober Sherlock. It was because of me, because of my encouragement that he became addicted."

Molly looked at him silently, wanting to ask him why he had tried to kill them both but knew that it wasn't her place to ask such a heavy question. The only one that could do that was Sherlock himself.

After a few moments Victor continued, "It's best that our relationship ended, perhaps not in the way that it did, but we were unbelievably toxic. We would have been a maelstrom if we had stayed together any longer." He paused then looked at her. "Yes, it's definitely better that we were separated. For both of us."

Molly dropped her gaze. "Did you ever try to contact him?"

"No. I was all too well aware that Mycroft would find out. And he had previously threatened me with the loss of my job if I did. So I never attempted it. But I never forgot him."

She stared down into the dregs of her cup. "He hasn't forgotten about you either."

"He hasn't?"

She glanced up, surprised to find a look of disbelief on Victor's face. "No. He hasn't. I think it would be impossible for him to forget you."

"Oh."

"Did he never tell you? Did he never … you didn't know that he loved you?"

Victor breathed in sharply, making Molly instantly regret her words. She feared that perhaps she had said too much. That it should have been Sherlock telling him this, not her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, leaning to the side to put down her cup.

"No, please don't apologize. Thank you for telling me."

She floundered for a moment, feeling unsure of where to next take the conversation. So she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Tom Hiddleston?" Her cheeks flushed bright red as she said this.

Victor laughed, a deep throaty laugh, instantly setting her at ease.

"Yes actually, several times. I've been stopped on the streets in New York, and my husband likes to claim that's the only reason why he married me." He ended his sentence with another laugh.

She smiled widely. "You're married? That's wonderful!"

His smile mirrored her own. "Yes, Rupert and I will be celebrating our sixth year anniversary next month."

"Oh that's lovely! Happy Anniversary! Sherlock and I will be celebrating our first in May."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"No children yet? I'm surprised, Sherlock was always rather keen about them. He used to always say that they had a more intelligent view of the world than most adults." Victor's eyes widened as he ended the sentence, and he nearly choked on the sip of tea he had just taken, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was rather untoward of me."

Molly gave a dismissive wave of her hand, not offended by what he had spoken. "It's fine. We have been discussing it, I just haven't been able to fully decide if I want to have children or not." She stared down at her hands in her lap, surprised with how open she was being with him. He was practically a stranger to her, and yet he didn't feel like a stranger at all.

"Is that part of the reason why you've asked me here?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "I-I think so. Yes."

He smiled slightly. "Don't let the mistakes of Sherlock's past dictate your future. It's clear to me that he is an entirely different man from the boy I once knew."

His choice of words shocked her, but yet also left her feeling slightly elated. It was the final push in helping her to realize that she had long ago made her decision; she just hadn't been able to accept it.

A comfortable silence stretched out, until Victor broke it.

"When Mycroft first contacted me and said that you wanted to meet me, I was rather surprised. Most women don't want to have anything to do with their spouses' former lovers."

Molly hid her smile with her cup. "Yes well, I'm not most women."

Victor's eyes sparkled. "I can see that. I can also see that you don't feel threatened by me whatsoever, which you shouldn't. Sherlock chose well in marrying you."

She was about to make a reply when she noticed that someone was standing in the doorway. "Sherlock!"

She moved to her feet as he walked further into the flat. He wasn't looking at her, but at the man sat across from her.

"Victor." He spoke the name softly, yet both of them heard it.

Victor set down his cup and stood as well. "Hello Sherlock."

Molly looked from one to the other. When neither one of them moved or spoke she stepped forward and picked up the tea tray.

"I'll just go and heat up more water," she said.

She moved towards the kitchen but Sherlock stopped her by placing his hand on her arm. He hadn't taken his eyes off Victor.

"No, don't bother," he stated through gritted teeth, before he turned and strode towards the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Molly stared after him, her mouth open in shock. She moved to follow him, then stopped and turned to Victor.

"Please, don't leave. I'll go and speak to him."

She put down the tray and hurried down the hallway. She opened the door and entered their bedroom, shutting the door gently behind her. Sherlock was pacing up and down the room, his face like thunder.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, her voice sounding small.

Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked at her. "No. I'm more surprised than anything. I suppose he is here thanks to Mycroft?"

She swallowed. "If it was entirely up to him, Victor wouldn't be here at all."

Sherlock's expression softened. "So it's because of you."

"Yes."

"You truly do have a way with the Holmes'."

She smiled and stepped towards him, placing her hand on his arm. "I asked Victor here because I needed to see him for myself. He's a part of you, a part of your history that I know so very little about, and he is a part of you that helped make you the man you are today." She paused. "I also asked him here, for you. You need to talk to him, and I think he needs to talk to you. Clear the air, put your minds at ease. Lay the past to rest."

Sherlock cupped the side of her face in his hand. "You are a brave woman Molly."

She leaned into his hand. "I trust you Sherlock. I love you, and I trust you."

"Do you trust him?"

She hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "Do you?"

He glanced towards the door. "I don't know."

She stepped away from him, grabbing up a nearby jacket and slipping it on.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to leave the two of you alone, so you can talk," she replied as she zipped up her jacket.

"Molly …"

She looked up at him. "I think it's best if I do."

Sherlock let out a slow breath before moving over to the wardrobe and opening it. "Take my scarf," he offered as he held it out to her.

She smiled, but when she reached out to take it he instead stepped towards her and wrapped it around her neck, tucking it into the front of her jacket. Once he was finished he cupped her face in his hands.

"I don't know what's going to happen," he murmured to her.

She closed her eyes as he brushed his nose against hers. "I don't either."

"I don't like not knowing."

She placed her hands on top of his. "I know you don't, but that's just it, you can't _always_ know. Sometimes you just have to let things be, wait and see and what happens. Que Sera Sera."

He breathed out. "Whatever will be, will be."

"Yes." She pressed her lips to his.

After letting out a sigh he stepped away from her. "All right. If this is what you think I should do."

"It is."

She pulled on her trainers and grabbed up her bag before leaving the bedroom, Sherlock following behind her. Victor was once more sat in John's chair, his head turning when he heard their footsteps, showing off his aquiline nose. Sherlock walked passed him and sat in his chair, steepling his fingers. Molly eyed him for a moment, then looked at Victor.

"I'm going to leave you two alone so you can catch up. It was very nice meeting you Victor." She held out her hand, and he stood to take shake it.

"It was lovely to meet you Molly." He smiled warmly, and it was there at that very moment that she realized why Sherlock had fallen for him.

Tearing her gaze from his, she glanced over at Sherlock. "He'll behave," she promised Victor, smirking slightly when she saw Sherlock's eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

After making her way out of the flat, she walked towards Regent's Park, happy to find that it was a sunny day and that the cool air had abated somewhat. Upon reaching the park she settled herself down upon one of the benches. There was a book tucked into her bag, but she didn't move to take it out, instead she sat there enjoying the silence. She had always liked to people watch, and there were plenty of people out and about enjoying the nice day.

Her mind wandered back to 221B, and ever so briefly she wondered if she had made a wise decision. Was it safe for Sherlock and Victor to be alone together? He had said that they were toxic when together, could this mean that even now it would still be this way? She dismissed these worries with a shake of her head. Mycroft was most certainly watching the flat like a hawk. He may have even gone so far as placing cameras. She had no reason to worry. She trusted Sherlock, and she had a feeling that she could trust Victor as well.

Time passed quickly, far more quickly than she realized. When she heard her text tone go off and pulled it out of her pocket, she was surprised by what the clock showed; nearly an hour had gone by. The text was from Sherlock.

_Where are you?_ \- SH

_Regent's Park. -_ Mx

_Stay there. I'll come to you. -_ SH

She briefly considered asking him how everything went, but decided to wait until they were face to face. She didn't have to wait long, he appeared within a few minutes. Damn his long legs! She studied his expression as he approached her. He didn't appear to be upset, or angry, if anything he looked at peace. He sat down beside her, clasping his hands together in his lap.

"Are you warm enough?" he questioned.

She smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. The sun feels good." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. When Sherlock didn't say anything she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Has Victor gone?" she asked.

"Yes."

She studied him for a moment. "I'm sorry if I was presumptuous. I shouldn't have gone behind your back the way that I did."

He reached out and covered hand with his. "Don't apologize Molly. I'm happy that you did. It never would have happened otherwise."

She stared down at their joined hands as they both lapsed into momentary silence.

"I asked him," Sherlock's voice faltered slightly, "I asked him why he tried to kill us both."

Molly turned her hand, lacing their fingers together before she gave him a gentle, encouraging squeeze. She kept her gaze down, hearing him swallowing thickly.

"He told me that he was terrified that I would leave him," Sherlock continued. "That once we were both done with university, graduated and all that, that I wouldn't want to be with him anymore. You see, his father left him when he was a baby, and his mother, she died when he was nine. All he has known is abandonment. It was all he ever expected from anyone. His greatest fear has always been being alone. So, he took it upon himself that we should die together. That way we would never be apart."

A faint breeze danced across them, rustling Sherlock's curls. He released her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against him and into his warmth. She rested her cheek upon his chest, faintly hearing the beat of his heart. With his free hand, he took up hers once more, his thumb brushing across her skin. She felt him take a deep breath.

"At the time Victor believed that it was the only option. He knew that we could never succeed as a couple, that our relationship would end in one of us bringing down the other. He feared that he would destroy me; destroy my chances at any sort of successful career. But he also thought that he couldn't possibly survive without me. So he chose to be selfish.

"He's happy though that he didn't succeed. He said that it would have been a terrible waste and that he's embarrassed now by what he had tried to do, and that he'll regret it for the rest of his life." Sherlock placed his chin on the top of her head. "He also told me that he's proud of me, of what I've become, and what I've accomplished. He's been following my career, he knew all about what happened with Moriarty and Magnussen. He also told me that he is very happy to see that I am married. And married to such a wise and incredible woman."

Molly let out a snort, instantly regretting it. She pressed her face into his chest, hiding her blushing cheeks. "He did not!" she mumbled.

"He did. I swear to you he did!" Sherlock gently nudged her back so that he could look at her. "He's happy to know that I'm not alone, that I was able to move beyond the toxicity that was me and him. I don't know what you said to him Molly, but you've obviously made quite an impression!"

Her blush had started to fade, but his words made it come back with a fury. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chin.

"Will you ever see him again?" she asked quietly.

"No. I don't think so. We both agreed that it's for the best. For both of us. He has his life now, and I have mine." Sherlock reached up and gently brushed his fingertips across her cheek. "Thank you Molly." He tipped his head forward, and placed a kiss against her skin.

After a few more moments she sat up and looked at him.

"Let's go home," she said, and he nodded.

They made their way back to Baker Street, walking in silence. Upon entering the flat she looked about her, wondering why it all felt different. Not a bad sort of different, but a good one.

Sherlock had disappeared into their bedroom, and as she walked down the hall she thought back on the words that Victor had said to her, " _Don't let the mistakes of Sherlock's past dictate your future_ ". Had that been what she had been doing all this time? Thinking about the past Sherlock and not the current and future one?

She stood in the doorway, watching him as he moved about their room looking for something. What was the real reason for her hesitation in starting a family? What was it that she feared? Had she been a fool to prolong the inevitable? What was she waiting for?

"Sherlock …" Her heart pounded in her chest as she came to terms with what she was about to do.

He spun about and looked at her. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped when his mobile rang. He frowned and pulled it from his pocket.

"It's John." He looked at her.

"Go ahead, answer it. He wouldn't call unless it was something important."

"Mmm, true. John?"

Molly stepped into their room as she unzipped her jacket, straining to hear what John was saying but unable to make it out. His voice did sound a bit higher than usual though, strained. She stopped what she was doing and looked at Sherlock.

"We'll be there John. We'll come straight away." He hung up and stared down at his phone for a moment.

"Sherlock? What is it? What's wrong."

"Mary collapsed, they're on their way to the hospital," he explained.

"Oh my God! That's horrible. Is Mary being brought to Barts?"

"Yes."

She rezipped her jacket and held out her hand to him. "Let's go then."

He placed his hand in hers and they hurried from the flat.

"I hope the baby is ok. What do you think happened?" Molly said to him as they got into a cab.

Sherlock shrugged. "Dehydration most likely. She has been experiencing rather intense morning sickness." He took Molly's hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure the baby is fine."

They arrived at Barts and after finding out which room Mary was in, they went up to see her. John was sat in a chair beside the bed, looking pale, and as if he had just run a marathon. Emily was asleep in his arms, oblivious to all going on around her. Mary was sitting up in her bed propped by pillows, and she too looked pale, with all sorts of wires and drips attached to her. But she greeted them with a warm smile.

"Are you alright?" Molly asked her.

"Yes. I was just dehydrated. The baby is fine."

Sherlock gave Molly a brief look of "told you so".

"I haven't been able to keep anything down," Mary continued. "Not any liquids or solids foods. It's been awful. I wasn't like this with Emily. They gave me an anti-nausea medicine which has helped a lot. But I'll just be staying the night for observation."

"We can take Emily home with us," Molly said to her. "Keep her with us for a few days, to give you both a bit of a break."

Mary looked from her to Sherlock. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

Molly glanced at Sherlock. "Would you mind doing that?"

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't mind at all. I always enjoy watching Emily. Perhaps I'll be able to teach her a few words."

"If you teach her the word 'murder' I'll shoot you again," Mary warned, making Molly laugh.

"What do you think about it John?" Molly asked him.

He didn't answer, instead continuing to stare straight ahead.

"I'm afraid he's a bit shell-shocked," Mary explained. "He hasn't spoken a word since he called the ambulance. Darling …" She placed her hand on his arm, and he blinked a few times before turning his head to look at her. "Molly and Sherlock are going to watch Emily for us."

"Oh. That's nice. Thanks."

"For God's sakes John! Snap out of it! Mary isn't dead!" Sherlock exclaimed.

John stared at him. "No. She isn't. But for a moment … I thought-" He struggled to maintain his composure. "-I thought she was."

"It's all right John, I'm here, I'm ok," Mary murmured soothingly.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he covered her hand with his.

Molly and Sherlock were silent. Although it was clear to Molly that Sherlock was fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. She gave him a nudge with her elbow, and he glanced at her. She shook her head ever so slightly, letting him know that what he had just done was a Bit Not Good.

"We can take Emily now," Molly said. "Let you two be alone. And we can take her for the whole weekend, I have off. So you both can get some rest."

John stood, cradling the still sleeping Emily against his chest. "Thank you Molly."

Sherlock stood as well. "We'll stop at your flat, and get her things. You know that I have a key."

Mary laughed and John rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I'm well aware Sherlock," he said. "I also know that you could easily pick the lock."

Sherlock made a noise of agreement. "True, but yours is a bit of posh neighbourhood. Don't want anyone to think I'm trying to break in. I'd rather not be arrested by Lestrade's lackeys."

John rolled his eyes again before walking over to Molly, gently handing Emily to her. She didn't wake, instead snuggling directly up against Molly's chest, letting out a soft sigh.

Sherlock watched as she settled her, making sure Emily was comfortable before she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He felt an odd sort of twinge in his chest, a longing that he forced down, focusing on the matter at present.

"Be well Mary," Molly said to her.

"I will. Just a few days of rest and I'll be back to normal."

Sherlock, Molly and Emily left the hospital, and after stopping at John and Mary's they returned to Baker Street. Emily was still asleep when they entered the flat, so Molly brought her upstairs to John's old room where a bed was already made up for just such an occasion. When Molly walked into the kitchen, Sherlock was busy making tea.

"Emily will probably be a bit upset when she first wakes up," Molly said to him.

Sherlock turned about with two steaming mugs in his hands. "Why?" he asked, placing the mugs onto the table. "She knows this flat well."

"Yes but when she fell asleep she was in her father's arms, and now she is in a bed here. She'll be disoriented."

Sherlock shrugged. "As soon as she sees either myself or you, she'll be all right."

Molly chose not to counter-argue his statement. "Will you take any cases this weekend?"

Sherlock hesitated, but tried to hide his hesitation by taking a sip of his tea. "Do you not want me to?" he asked.

"Emily adores you. I know she'll want to spend some time with you."

He took another sip of tea. "Of course I'm going to spend time with her. I have a few experiments I think she'll enjoy."

"Sherlock."

"What?" He immediately adopted an innocent expression. "Nothing dangerous!"

"When are your experiments anything but dangerous?"

He scoffed then frowned. "Most of them?" he said slowly, making her laugh. "Fine. No experiments. Violin lessons?"

"I was thinking of taking her to the zoo."

"Ugh zoo. Wasn't the one in China enough?"

She laughed again. "Emily wasn't with us then."

He nodded his head in agreement. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure, and I think you'll enjoy yourself. I know you like animals."

He muttered something beneath his breath, and when Molly raised her eyebrow he quickly drowned out his mutterings with a large gulp of tea. She rolled her eyes when he spluttered and struggled to swallow.

" _Mummy_!"

Molly's eyes widened. "Uh oh, Emily is awake. I told you she'd be upset!"

She hurried up the stairs, Sherlock close at her heels. Emily was sitting up, rubbing at her eyes as tears poured out from behind her fingers. Her otter toy was clutched tightly to her chest.

"Darling it's alright, we're here," Molly said as she embraced her.

Emily hooked her arms around Molly's neck, sniffling as she pressed her face into her chest.

"You'll see your mummy and daddy in a couple of days, ok?" Molly explained to her. "But for right now you're going to stay here with your Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly."

Emily leaned her head back and looked up at Molly, then over at Sherlock who was stood in the doorway. "Lock!" she cried, stretching her arms out to him.

He smiled and stepped into the room before lifting her into his arms. "Hello Emily!" he pressed a kiss to her cheek, before cradling her close. "How would you like to go to the zoo tomorrow?"

Judging by Emily's squeal of delight, she would very much like to do so. Molly laughed as she followed them down the stairs, her heart fluttering at the sight of Sherlock holding the little girl.

The next day they set out for the zoo after they had eaten breakfast. Emily could barely contain her excitement, and it seemed that it was infectious for Sherlock was acting rather excited as well. Molly had no choice but to roll her eyes and shake her head as she watched the two of them

"Wonderful, a little girl and a man-child," she muttered this to herself but she was smiling good-naturedly, unable to not find the two of them and their exuberance to be adorable.

"Well, what shall we go see first?" Molly asked, peering over the map.

Emily held up her otter toy and shook it.

"The otters?" Molly questioned and Emily nodded excitedly.

The three of them made their way towards the otter exhibit.

"Awwww! Look at them! They're so cute!" Molly said, pointing at the sleek animals as they soared through the water.

Emily smiled, waving her arms with glee, nearly dropping her otter toy. "Lock!" she cried, pointing one chubby finger at an otter that had just come out of the water and was peering at them through the glass with a curious expression. "Lock! Lock!"

Molly laughed and looked at Sherlock. "I think she's saying the otter looks like you."

Sherlock scowled, making Emily giggle loudly. They stayed for a few minutes longer, watching the otter family as they swam and played along the rocks. Emily would periodically call out "Lock!", sending Sherlock scowling once more.

"What animal do you want to see next Emily?" Molly asked her, holding out the map so she could point at any animal that may catch her interest.

Her hand splayed out on top of the the little black and white flightless birds.

"The pengwing's are that way," Sherlock told Molly as he pointed, before he settled Emily onto her feet and grabbed a hold of her hand.

Molly stopped folding up the map and looked at him. "What did you say?"

He frowned. "You heard me."

"Say penguin."

He swallowed, looking slightly disconcerted. "Pengwing," he muttered, barely audible.

"I didn't hear you."

"PENGWING!" he all but shouted.

Molly snorted a giggle, then clamped her hand over her mouth as he glared at her.

"Pengwing!" Emily crowed.

Molly and Sherlock looked down at her in unison.

"Oh no." Molly squatted down to Emily's level. "It's penguin. Can you say penguin?"

"Pengwing! Pengwing!"

Molly glanced up at Sherlock before mumbling beneath her breath, "Mary is going to kill you."

"How is this my fault?"

She silenced him with a look, and no matter how hard Molly tried Emily refused to say anything but 'pengwing'. After watching them be fed, they continued throughout the rest of the zoo. Sherlock tried to convince Molly to go look at the spiders, but she outright refused, claiming that it would upset Emily; but he knew that it would be more upsetting for her.

By the time they were nearing the last exhibit Emily was starting to yawn. Molly was holding her and couldn't help but smile when she snuggled against her chest. Emily let out a happy sigh before her eyes fell closed, clutching close her new 'pengwing' toy, alongside her otter.

When they got back to the flat Molly settled her into her bed, tucking the covers close around her before returning downstairs. Sherlock was sat in his chair, plucking at the strings of his violin.

"I think I'm ready for a nap myself," she stated as she sat on the arm of his chair.

He put his violin to the side, took her hand in his and stood before leading her to their bedroom. She laughed as she followed him, and hummed happily when he turned to kiss her as soon as he had shut the door behind them. He moved her towards the bed, and they fell down upon it, moving in unison towards the center. As their kiss deepened he slowly slipped his hand beneath her shirt, but just as he was about to cup her breast she pulled away from the kiss.

"I don't think we should," she said to him.

He leaned back slightly. "What do you mean? Why not?"

"What if Emily hears us?" Molly questioned.

Sherlock sighed and rolled off of her, laying down on his back. "And what if she does? She's probably heard John and Mary. Mary had to have gotten pregnant somehow."

Molly whacked him with a pillow.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged. "It's only a couple more days. I think you'll survive."

He pouted. "Will you?"

"I'll do my best."

"Hmph."

She laughed. "Just think, it will make the sex all that more enjoyable."

He crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to pout. "Is this what it would be like, with a child of our own?"

She rubbed her hand up and down her arm. "No, I-I don't think so. It would be different. Emily isn't ours, I don't want her to be traumatized."

Sherlock snorted a laugh. "Is that what would happen if she heard us shagging?"

"Well ... try and think from her perspective. Outside the people that are engaged in the act, sex sounds a bit ... odd. Especially to someone who doesn't understand what's going on."

"Mmmm. Fine. No sex until Emily goes home."

"We can still snuggle."

"I don't snuggle," he declared.

Molly smiled and moved closer to him. "Yeah you do."

* * *

Emily kept them very busy for the next two days. She was quick on her feet and curious about every little thing. Toby despised her and kept himself hidden beneath Sherlock and Molly's bed, not venturing out until the middle of the night when all was certain to be safe and quiet.

Even if Molly hadn't set a ban on sex, it would have been most likely that neither one of them would have had the energy for it. Each night that Emily was settled down into her bed they would have a cup of tea then retire to their own bed, dropping off to sleep within minutes, _snuggling_.

John came to pick up Emily on Monday morning, letting them know that Mary was feeling much better. She was still a little tired, but the doctor had told her that her body just needed to adjust to the new medication, and that what was most important was that she was able to keep both food and drink down. Emily was happy to see her father, hugging him tightly and proudly showing him her 'pengwing'. When she said the word his brow furrowed and he looked at them for an explanation.

"Blame my husband," Molly said. "The World's Only Consulting Detective is incapable of properly pronouncing the word 'penguin'! Who would have thought?"

"Alert the media," John mumbled in shock, making Sherlock's scowl deepen.

"Why are you two making such a big thing about it? It's just a silly word!" he groused.

"I think it's adorable," she told him.

John shook his head then shouldered Emily's bag. "Thank you both for watching her, it was a great help. Definitely made it easier for us both."

"You're most welcome John," Molly said with a smile. "Please let us know whenever we can do it again. We had a lot of fun."

He nodded before leaving the flat. Molly stood still, listening to the sound of him making his way down the stairs. As soon as she heard front door open and close she turned towards Sherlock and looked at him. He raised his eyebrow and for a brief moment they continued to stare at each other before she launched herself at him, kissing him as if she had been in a desert and he was a tall drink of water. He returned the kiss, pleased and yet also surprised by her fervour.

Sherlock hated to admit it, and he most certainly never would out loud, but he had worried. He had worried that her meeting Victor would have left her feeling insecure, about herself, and about their relationship. But from the way she was kissing him and grabbing at his clothes while trying her hardest to remove them, he realized that his worries had been needless.

Their clothes flew in all directions landing who knows where, as they moved down the hallway continuing to kiss, before they tumbled naked onto the bed. He pushed the blanket away and pressed her down into the sheets, rutting against her so that she knew how hard he was and how much he wanted her.

"Please Sherlock," her voice was a low whine, sending a tingle down his back. "Please fuck me!"

He took her legs, and placed them on his shoulders, his knees on either side of her hips. Her toes were curling in anticipation, her skin flushed, and her nipples taut and begging to be taken between his lips. He entered her so swiftly and deeply that she moved slightly up the bed.

"Oh yes!" she cried. "Just like that!"

Grabbing onto her hips he continued to give her exactly what she wanted, and she became a wailing mess beneath him. He leaned forward and bit and sucked at her breasts, loving how they moved even when they were surrounded by his mouth. Her moans grew in pitch, her words of encouragement becoming illegible. Knowing that she was close, he tilted back the tiniest bit, angling his hips in just the right away so that he hit the spot inside of her that would send her directly over the edge.

She screamed out his name, her hands clutching at the bed sheets. He didn't stop his movements, continuing to thrust, dragging out her orgasm. Her low moans urged him on, and when she opened her eyes to look at him, he felt the telltale tightening in his lower back. He leaned forward again, this time kissing her. She moaned into his mouth, and all he managed was a gasp of surprise when he felt her hands clutch his arse, before he too tumbled over the edge. Her name was a sigh upon his lips as he pressed his face into her neck. She kept her hands on his arse, letting him know that she wanted him to stay inside of her. His cock was still pulsing slightly, and he was perfectly content to stay as they were.

"Your legs?" he questioned after a few moments, they were still on his shoulders, but were now pressed down between them, her knees just barely touching the mattress.

"I'm fine," she answered.

He knew she wasn't exactly telling the truth. She whimpered softly when he leaned back, but he only moved far enough away so that he could ease first one leg, then the other away from him, so that she could stretch them out. She placed both ankles on the backs of his thighs. He returned to his previous position, his cock still inside of her; it felt too good to move away. She sighed as he gently kissed her throat, his hand brushing lightly across her breast.

"I think I need a nap," she said.

Sherlock chuckled. "Mmm … sounds like an excellent idea. Taking care of a child is rather exhausting."

Molly chose to not comment, instead allowing him to move off of her. He lay down beside her, his now flaccid cock lying against his thigh, shiny from their combined fluids.

"Should we shower first?" she questioned.

He crinkled his nose. "Takes too long. Sleep now. Shower later. We can change the sheets." His eyes fell closed and she smiled.

"Good idea." She moved onto her side and he blindly reached for her, slipping his hand over her waist.

Silence fell, but neither one of them went to sleep, instead they both lay quietly. Molly knew that he was awake, and she felt that it was now or never, she had to say to him what she had been thinking about. She could no longer keep it inside.

Her hand smoothed across his chest, stopping once she reached the spot where his heart was. She could feels its steady pump, the thrum of it beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes and brushed her nose against his shoulder. Her eyes opened when she felt his hand cover hers. If she didn't speak now, she may never conjure up the ability to say the words again.

"Having a child of our own won't be like it is with Emily. We won't have them for a few days and then be able to hand them back over to their parents. The child will be ours, our responsibility."

He took up her hand and brought it to his lips. "I know this Molly, I am well aware," he gently murmured.

"Are you?"

He looked at her. "Yes. I am."

"Ok. I just wanted to be sure."

Letting go of her hand he sat up and grabbed at the blanket, pulling it over them both. "Go to sleep Molly."

"Mmm …" Her eyes dropped closed once more, and within moments she was fast asleep.

Sherlock lay awake for several more hours, thinking about what she had said to him. What could he do to prove himself to her?

* * *

A week later Molly was once more curled up in bed during the daytime, due to the fact that she was going to be working the graveyard shift. She had set her alarm, and it would be going off within the next five minutes. Somehow her body was aware of this fact, and decided that _now_ would be the perfect time to wake up; five minutes before her alarm would be blaring. Five minutes that could have been spent in sleep, but alas, no. In spite of this she refused to get out of bed, instead snuggling further down beneath the blankets, all but her nose sticking out.

She could hear movement in the kitchen, and figured that it was probably Sherlock working on an experiment. Suddenly she heard his voice, and it became clear to her that he was talking on his mobile. Judging by how his voice rose in excitement, it must have been Lestrade with a case. She tightened the blanket around her head, drowning out the noise.

When she suddenly felt the bed dip and the blanket rise, she let out a faint yelp. A warm body tucked itself against her, smelling distinctly of Sherlock. He nuzzled her ear with the tip of his nose before nibbling at her earlobe as his arm slipped around her waist.

"My dear, sweet wife," he murmured into her ear.

Her eyes popped open. She knew all too well what that tone insinuated.

"No," she stated firmly.

"Molly, my dear." He nipped at her jaw line.

"Absolutely not."

"Wife of my age." He brought his hand up and cupped her breast.

"No, Sherlock. Whatever you are about to ask me, the answer is no."

She could feel him frowning against her skin, and she silently cursed the fact that her nipple had pebbled beneath his hand. He danced a fingertip across it before placing his hand on her shoulder to push her down onto her back so that he could look at her.

"Why?" he questioned.

She reached up, pushing his curls back from his forehead. "Lestrade has a case for you, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"It requires you to leave England, doesn't it?"

"Yesss …"

"I'm not going to take anymore time off of work Sherlock, I can't," she explained.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. "But John can't come with me either. He claims that he can't leave Mary right now."

"And he shouldn't."

Sherlock frowned, it gradually working into a pout. "The case is in Wales. I can't go alone! I need an assistant."

"So that's all I'd be if I agreed to go with you?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"You know that you are far more than that!" he answered quickly.

She smiled. "I know, I'm only teasing you."

He harrumphed.

"Why not take Wiggins?" she suggested. "He'd probably be more than happy to go with you."

It was Sherlock's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No."

He sighed. "I suppose I will have to, seeing as both my wife and my best friend have abandoned me."

She laughed. "Oh stop being so dramatic!"

He continued to frown. "I don't know how long this case will take me. I might not be back in time for our anniversary."

Molly returned her hand to his curls. "That's all right. It doesn't matter. We can celebrate whenever you get back. It doesn't have to be on the actual day."

"But it's our first!" he insisted.

She laughed softly. "You closet romantic."

He smiled slightly. "I have my moments."

"Just come back to me, that's all that matters."

He kissed her, moving his body to cover hers as he deepened the kiss. "How soon do you need to be at work?" he questioned between kisses.

"In an hour," she replied.

"Hmmm … shall I fuck you against the shower wall?"

She hissed out a breath, before letting out a soft gasp as she felt his hand slip into her pyjama bottoms and beneath her knickers.

He made a noise of approval. "Judging by how wet you are, I'd say that is a yes!" He brushed his thumb across her clit, making her whimper. As he sat up he removed his hand and pulled her up with him. "Let's take advantage of the time we have, hmmm?"

They slid off the bed and made their way into the bathroom, removing clothes as they went. Molly stepped into the shower, Sherlock following behind her. He reached out and turned on the water, fiddling with the knob until it was set on a temperature that was comfortable. His stood behind her as his hand came to rest on her hip, and he slid it forward until he was able to cup the front of her, slipping his finger between her slick folds. She gave a hum of approval, rocking her hips forward.

When he removed his hand she made small noise of disappointment. He turned her about and nudged her towards the wall. Once her back was pressed against it he tucked his hands beneath her thighs.

"Raise your legs," he instructed, helping to lift them as she did so so that they settled against his hips.

She crossed her ankles, locking herself around him. He slid his hands backwards, and cupped her bum. With one hand placed on his arm, she reached down with the other and grasped his cock. He hissed out a groan as she gave him a few swift pumps, before she placed the head at her entrance. He slid into the hilt, letting out another groan once he was fully sheathed by her.

They kissed as he began to thrust, his hands holding tightly onto her bum, their skin slapping noisily. The hardened points of her nipples rubbed against his chest, sending fissures of pleasure through her body, over and over.

"Oh Sherlock!" she moaned, throwing her head back.

He mouthed at her throat, muttering a curse when he felt the return of her hand between them, knowing that she was touching herself. He quickened his pace, wanting to come with her, and if not, follow close behind.

Both of them came with a shout, surprised by the suddenness of their orgasms. He pressed his hips to hers, squeezing her bum, wanting to keep himself inside of her for as long as he could manage. His forehead was leaning against her shoulder and she nuzzled his neck, murmuring softly as her hands smoothed across his shoulders.

Ever so slowly he eased back, allowing his now softened-cock to slip out of her. She lowered her legs to the floor and he reached up to cradle her head in his hands, kissing her tenderly. They moved further under the fall of water, holding each other for a few moments before they began to wash.

"When will you leave for Wales?" she asked him a few minutes later as they got dressed.

Sherlock finished buttoning up his shirt before he answered, "As soon as possible. I'll need to contact Wiggins first, make sure he is available."

"Will I see you before you go?"

He looked at her. "I can stop at Barts."

"You don't have to."

He stepped closer to her. "I know. I want to."

She kissed him, before they continued to dress in mutual silence.

Two hours later Sherlock did just that, striding into the lab as if he owned the place. The two interns that had been working at one of the microscopes quickly scurried out when they saw him. Molly gave him a look which he simply returned with a cheeky grin.

"Honestly Sherlock, must you frighten all of my interns?" she exclaimed.

He shrugged. "I don't do it intentionally, it just sort of happens."

She rolled her eyes and snapped off her gloves. "Is Wiggins with you?"

"Yes. He's out in the hall, he said that he wanted to give 'my missus and I' some time alone."

"Don't say that like it was a direct quote."

Sherlock sighed slightly. "Fine, he said 'me and my missus'."

She giggled.

"Any chance of a quick shag in the supply closet?"

She gave his arm a swat. "No you tit!"

"Mmmm … yes I do love your breasts."

She gave his arm another smack. "That was one time!"

"Oh and what a glorious time it was!"

"You have a case you horny bastard. Go and solve it, then you can come back and shag me all you like."

His eyebrows rose excitedly. "In the supply closet?"

She sighed deeply and shook her head, but when she moved to walk around him he stopped her by slipping his arm around her waist. He pressed his forehead to her temple, closing his eyes as he held her close.

"I'll try and come back before our anniversary."

She turned her head and smiled at him as he opened his eyes. "I know you will. But there really is no need." She kissed him. "Happy solving!"

He took her face between his hands and kissed her deeply. "I love you Molly Holmes."

"As I love you Sherlock Holmes. Now go and solve your case!"

He gave her one last kiss before hurrying from the lab. She let out a slow sigh, before returning to her work.

* * *

Sherlock had been in Wales for two weeks now, but he had told her that he was getting close to solving the case. It had proved to be a difficult one, thrilling, but difficult; involving two separate serial killers.

She missed him terribly, spending most nights on the sofa because she didn't like being alone in their bed. She was currently on the sofa, having fallen asleep while watching crap telly, and Toby was curled up on Sherlock's chair. She had lit a fire, but it had for the most part gone out, casting a very faint glow. It was upon this scene that Sherlock came home.

The time was nearly midnight, only a few minutes left to their first anniversary. He quickly took off his coat and scarf, followed by his suit jacket. After toeing off his shoes he strode towards Molly. For a brief moment he stared down at her allowing the sensation of awe and wonder to wash over him, taking in the fact that this incredible woman was his wife, and that she had been his wife for a year now. He could only hope that she would continue to be so for many, many more years.

He laid down beside her, tucking his arm around her waist before he gently began to place kisses on her cheeks, eyelids and nose. She mewled softly, grabbing onto his shirt.

"Hi Sherlock," she mumbled sleepily.

He smiled, giving her lips a tender kiss. "Hello wife."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Happy anniversary."

"Mmm. Happy anniversary."

He kissed her again, this time more fully, splaying his hand across her lower back in order to press her closer to him. She slipped her hand around his neck, returning the kiss with fervour.

"I meant to come home sooner, but this case proved to be a tricky one," he explained, his tone apologetic. "I had all these plans for a grand celebration."

She snuggled against him. "I don't care," she murmured into his shirt. "I'm just glad you're here."

He tightened his hold on her, pressing his lips to her temple. They laid like this for a few moments until she suddenly popped up.

"Oh! I have something for you!"

He loosened his hold on her as she climbed over him, getting up from the sofa. He watched as she padded away from him, and went to her bag. She took out a folder and carried it back to the sofa. It was thin, appearing to hold only a few papers. She held it out to him and he took it before she returned to her previous position.

"Happy anniversary!" she said to him.

He eyed her for a moment. "I thought we had long ago agreed, no gifts?"

She laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call this a gift. Just … something that has been a long time coming."

He narrowed his gaze before returning it to the folder in his hands.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. "Open it, read what's inside."

He did so, and said nothing. Only stared at the paper before him, shocked into silence. She bit down on her bottom lip, not entirely sure what to take from his reaction.

"Molly …," his voice sounded thick with emotion, "this is your …," his voice trailed off.

"Yes. It's my fertility test results. They came back one-hundred percent positive. I can have a baby."

The folder dropped to the floor and he moved so quickly that she didn't have a chance to react. He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. He could feel her smiling against his lips. When he struggled to take his phone out of his trouser pocket she broke apart the kiss.

"What are you doing?" she asked, laughing slightly.

"I have something to show you," he replied, giving her another kiss before unlocking his phone. He tapped for a few moments on the screen then held his mobile out to her, and she took it; the light from the screen casting a faint white glow on her face.

"I got tested as well," he told her. "And my results were positive too."

She tossed his phone to the opposite end of the sofa and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply. When they parted for breath he dropped his head down to nuzzle at her throat with his lips. She murmured his name and he raised his head and looked down at her.

"Mmmm?" he questioned.

She placed her hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer to her for another kiss, this one more gentle. When they parted her eyes were sparkling and she was smiling.

"I'm ready Sherlock," she said softly. "I want a baby. I want to have your child."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SQUEEEEEE! At long last it's finally happening! :D
> 
> If anyone is familiar with Laurie R. King's Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes series you may have noticed a little snippet that I borrowed from the book 'A Letter of Mary', hehehehehe! ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love reading all of your comments :)


	48. I Want to Have Your Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am truly sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I had no intention for it to drag out like this, but I am sure you know how it is, reality greatly enjoys rearing its ugly head.
> 
> 2017 so far has been a rather emotionally exhausting year for me … not good for brain work.
> 
> I've found it really difficult to get into the swing of writing, the desire just isn't there any more. It rather tends to ebb and flow.
> 
> From being sick for an entire month, to just dealing with shit that is constantly messing with my emotions and mental state, writing just hasn't been high on my priority list. Nor has the desire to do it whatsoever.
> 
> I've been barely reading any fics as well, I've kind of lost interest in even doing that. Chapter fics are basically a no-go, a one shot every now and then has seemed to be ok, but even the desire to read any of that ebbs and flows … so yeah. That's all I got.
> 
> Anyway, if you've actually been reading my waffling CONGRATS!
> 
> And Yay! The chapter is FINALLY here!
> 
> I'm not going to promise anything, but I am hoping that the next chapter(s) will be arriving fairly soon as well (they have already been started!).
> 
> Thank you, so very much, if you have stuck with my fic :)
> 
> Oh, and please note, this story **IS NOT** season 4 compliant ;)

 

 

* * *

"I'm ready Sherlock," Molly said softly. "I want a baby. I want to have your child."

Sherlock stared down at her for a moment, then a smile slowly appeared on his face before it gradually bloomed into a grin. He kissed her soundly, cupping the side of her face in his hand.

"I've been longing to hear you say that," he murmured against her lips.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that I've made you wait."

He exhaled noisily, his breath hitting her cheek. "Don't apologize Molly. I'm glad that we've had this time together. But I must admit, I am looking forward to having a child of our own." He tilted his head to suck a mark directly below her jaw line. "I am of course, also looking forward to the  _conception process_ ," he murmured into her skin.

She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. "Mmmm ... me too!"

He gave her jaw a gentle nip before raising his head once more, their eyes meeting. "I've been doing research, so that I would be prepared when the eventuality struck," he said to her.

She gave his scalp a gentle massage, his eyes falling closed due to her ministrations. "Of course you would. Find anything interesting?"

His eyes popped open, meeting her strong gaze. "Most definitely!" he replied. "Very,  _very_ interesting!" His smile became almost predatory as he moved to lock her hips in-between his knees.

She giggled again, lifting her bum off the sofa to press her core up against him. He groaned before pressing his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply.

"There's a rather scientific aspect to the process of conceiving," he told her, struggling for breath.

"Mmm ... is there?" She sounded half-interested as she moved her hands downwards, with all intentions to unbutton and unzip his trousers.

He hissed slightly as her fingers brushed against the prominent tent of his erection. "NOT. HERE." He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him. "We are not going to try and conceive our child on the sofa!"

Laughter bubbled from her throat as he scooped her in his arms and carried her towards the bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, and before he laid her down upon the bed he shoved the blanket and sheet to the side. She reached up to pull him down on top of her, just as he reached out to switch on the lamp. He managed to turn the switch before he dropped down on top of her, the light bathing the room in a warm glow. She hummed against his lips when his body became nestled against hers, loving the weight of him.

Their hands began to wander as they continued to kiss, buttons and zippers becoming undone. Items of clothing were tossed haphazardly about the room, mewls and soft whimpers escaping as their hands touched naked flesh. When they were at last skin to skin, she let out a low moan, nearly sending Sherlock over the edge right then and there. His cock gave a prominent twitch, making her giggle, knowing all too well what she was doing to him.

He pressed his face into the crook of her neck as he desperately tried to gather his wits. She gently smoothed her hands across his back, nuzzling his hair with her nose.

After a few more minutes had passed she whispered to him, "I stopped taking the pill the day you left for Wales."

He raised his head and looked down at her. She smiled impishly.

"You've really thought about this," he said, and she nodded.

"I have."

He kissed her, cupping her breast in one hand, toying gently with her nipple. She mewled against his lips, arching her back slightly, pressing her breast against the palm of his hand. He broke apart their kiss, shifting so that he could replace his fingers with his mouth. He suckled on her nipple, lolling his tongue around the stiff peak. She whispered his name, her hands coming to rest on either side of his neck. He pulled away from her breast, raising his head once more so that their eyes could meet. She cradled his head in her hands, her thumbs smoothing across his zygomatic bones.

"Can it just be us tonight?" she asked. "No science. Just me and you?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, brushing the tip of his nose against hers when they parted. "Of course." He kissed her again, allowing it to deepen.

She returned the kiss hungrily, spreading her legs so that he could settle more comfortably between them. He groaned her name when his cock brushed against her wet heat. She reached between them to guide him to her entrance, their gaze locking as his cock slipped inside of her. He didn't give her his full length directly, entering her at an almost teasing pace, but once he was at last fully seated she pulled him to her and kissed him deeply.

He made love to her slowly, wanting to draw out their connection, this moment, for as long as he could. The significance of what they were doing, sent a thrill through his veins. The fact that he would have at one time scoffed at the thought, that he would have dismissed it with a wave of his hand, showed how much he had grown. And it was all thanks to this beautiful and incredible woman that was lying beneath him, moaning and whispering his name. He kissed her, whispering an  _I love you_ once they parted for breath.

When she rocked her hips up to meet his he quickened his pace, giving her a few quick, solid thrusts before settling back into slow and even strokes. He nuzzled at her throat, massaging her breast with his fingers as she reached down and clutched at his arse, pressing him more tightly against her. Both of them moaned together; he because his cock slipped in deeper, and she because his pelvis brushed against her swollen clit.

They stayed like this, their bodies moving in unison until she suddenly cried out his name, throwing her head back against the pillow as her walls tightened around his cock. He muttered out a curse, determined to ride her through her orgasm, but it was too much, she felt too good. With one final thrust, he buried his cock inside of her and joined her in the bliss. She held onto him tightly, her face pressed into his shoulder, breathing heavily. He started to move off of her, but she tightened her hold.

"No," she whispered. "Stay."

He stayed. His cock softened, but didn't slip out of her, their bodies remaining joined. A minute or so passed, their racing hearts gradually returning to a more steady pace. She placed a few kisses on his skin before leaning back to look up at him. He was smiling. She offered up her mouth for a kiss. He cupped the side of her face with his hand, and pressed his lips to hers.

Ever so gently he eased their bodies apart, his heart fluttering at her faint noise of disappointment at the loss of his warmth. He laid on his side next to her, and she turned to curl against him, reaching out to grab the blanket and sheet that had been shoved aside. She pressed her cheek to his chest, letting out a slow and happy sigh as he locked his arm around her.

"I love you Sherlock," she said softly. "I'm so happy that I am your wife."

* * *

A week later Molly was very busy at work. She was only two hours into her shift and had already done six autopsies, and there was a mountain of paperwork waiting for her on her desk. After getting a cup of (horrible) coffee from the canteen she settled into her chair before letting out a slow and weary sigh. She pressed her palms against her eyes then leaned back and took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. The scent of the coffee beckoned to her. Grabbing up the cup she took a long sip, pausing to make a face of disgust, before she nudged her computer out of sleep mode, whilst chanting in her mind that it was caffeine, caffeine, caffeine, horrible or not.

Avoiding looking at the stack of papers beside her she logged into her work email. Her brow furrowed when a specific email caught her eye. "Your time off request has been approved," she read out loud. "What? I didn't put in a request!" She clicked on the email, her eyes narrowing as she read the dates for her time off. After taking another long sip of her coffee she pulled out her mobile and dialed Sherlock.

" _Hello Molly_!" he chirruped.

She shook her head, barely managing to stop herself from rolling her eyes. He sounded far too cheerful. Either he was working on a good case, or he was up to something.

"Sherlock … why do I have the next three days off?" she asked.

" _You're going to be ovulating soon, it is when you will be most fertile, thus making it the best time for us to have sex and when you are most likely to conceive_ ," he replied in a nonchalant tone.

"Ahh … I hope you're not in public right now," she said, her cheeks tinging a faint pink.

" _Does John count as public_?" he asked.

Before she could reply she heard a very loud sigh in the background, followed by John exclaiming, " _Yes! I do! Bloody hell_."

Her cheeks were bright red now. "SHERLOCK!" she cried.

" _Right. Noted. Not Good_."

She covered her face with her hand.

" _Sorry?_ " he said meekly.

She could still faintly hear John grumbling, but his voice gradually faded away.

"Is John gone now?" she asked Sherlock.

" _Yes. He was muttering something about visiting Mrs. Hudson_."

She giggled. "You did that on purpose didn't you?"

" _Possibly_."

She could practically hear him smiling. "You're such an arse."

" _I know_."

A beat of silence passed.

She took a sip of coffee. "So … three days huh? Is that all we are going to do, is have sex?" she asked.

" _Is that such a terrible thing_?"

She laughed. "No. It's not at all."

" _I have a plan Molly_."

She leaned back into her chair, idly taking another sip of her coffee, following it with a shudder. "Oh? And what is this plan?"

" _We have sex in every position we can manage_ ," he quipped.

She nearly snorted into her coffee. "Don't we do that already?"

" _Mmm. But this time it will be different_ ," he replied.

"Oh? And how is that?"

" _We have sex in only one position, changing it up every week_ ," he explained.

She laughed. "You're determined to discover which position is the perfect one to get me pregnant, aren't you?"

" _Yes_."

She laughed again. "You know that's most likely not going to be possible?"

He let out a sniff. " _It's a worth a try. And just think of all the fun we'll have!_ "

She shook her head. "Your findings aren't going to go on your blog are they?"

" _What? No!_ " he exclaimed. " _Absolutely not. This is far too personal and private to share with the idiotic public_."

"Good. I'll be home around 7, do you want me to pick up a takeaway?"

" _Thai? I'll make the order so all you have to do is pick it up._ "

"Thai it is. I really need to go though, I have a massive amount of paperwork to get through," she said with a sigh.

" _Distract your mind with the thought of what we'll be doing for the next three days,_ " he said.

"You wicked man! Please though, don't talk anymore about our sex life in front of John, I'd like to be able to face him without turning bright red."

Sherlock mumbled something indiscernible.

"I'll see you when I get home, ok?" she said.

" _Mmm …_ "

Aftering ringing off she finished the last of her coffee, fighting back a gag, and got to work. It took her to the end of her shift, and several more cups of (truly horrible, caffeine!) coffee to tackle the stack of paper, but she finished it and felt very accomplished by the time she clocked out.

Her feet ached from the multiple autopsies from earlier, her back was slightly sore and she was rather tired. All she wanted to do was get home, change into more comfortable clothes, eat some Thai food and snuggle with her husband. She could only hope that Sherlock's three-day-sex-fest didn't need to start until the following day.

The Thai order was ready and waiting for her. It smelled delicious, and her mouth was watering for the rest of the drive to Baker Street. Sherlock greeted her at the door, much to her surprise. He kissed her as soon as the door was shut behind them, taking the bag of food from her.

"Hi!" she said to him, playing with the curls at the base of his neck.

"Hello." He kissed her again, then led her up the stairs. "You're tired," he stated once they were in their flat.

"I'm exhausted, it was a hell of day," she said, kneeling down to pet Toby who had run to her in greeting.

"Hmmm."

She looked up at Sherlock, knowing by his expression that he was thinking, recalculating something. Suddenly his gaze snapped to hers.

"Go and change," he instructed. "I'll put out the food. We'll eat and then I'll give you a massage."

She smiled and stood, so that she could press her lips to his. "Thank you," she murmured. She went into their bedroom and quickly changed out of her work clothes, deciding to go sans-bra as she pulled on an oversized jumper, one of her rattiest, and a pair of loose cotton trousers before she walked back out into the kitchen. The food was waiting, as was Sherlock. She sat down beside him, letting out a happy sigh.

"Smart idea not using plates," she noted, spearing a piece of duck from the container.

"Thought it best," he said around a mouthful of chicken.

They ate in comfortable silence, Molly yawning every now and then.

"You'd think I wouldn't be so tired after all the coffee I drank," she said. "Even though it was absolutely dreadful."

He chewed for a moment. "You know you'll need to cut back on your caffeine intake."

She let out a low whine. "I know. That just wasn't possible today though." She set down her fork.

"Finished?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm stuffed."

"Stay here for a moment, I'll go get everything ready."

She watched him leave the kitchen, wondering to herself how she had managed to be so lucky. Taking out her phone she occupied herself with looking at her social media.

"I'm ready Molly!" he called out a few minutes later.

She got up and moved down the hall, removing her clothes as she went. She entered their bedroom and was very pleased to find that he too was naked, he had even gone so far as dotting candles about the room. Several towels were spread out on the bed, and he had a bottle of lotion and a bottle of oil beside him.

"I really do love you," she said softly as he pulled her to him.

They kissed for a short while, then he helped her onto the bed, he kneeling beside her.

"Sit, facing away from me," he instructed. "I'll do your back and shoulders first, then your legs and feet. It's best for you not to lie down straight away."

"Digestion, eh?"

"Yes."

She did as he asked and heard him open one of the bottles. He rubbed the oil between his hands to warm it, then smoothed his palms across her back, slicking her skin.

"Mmmm…"

He chuckled. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"Doesn't matter, your touch always feels good."

He started at her lower back, digging in his thumbs, gradually moving upwards, working out each knot, kneading her skin. By the time he was finished, and was working in the lotion, she looked as if she was ready to collapse into a heap. He chuckled again and helped her to stretch out onto her back.

She watched him with heavy lidded eyes as he massaged her thighs, her knees and her calf muscles. Every now and then she would let out a soft whimper or moan as he hit upon a particularly sore spot. When he got to her feet she flinched slightly. She never really liked having someone else touch her feet, she was far too ticklish, but Sherlock's touch was so tender that it didn't bother her.

By the time he was done she felt as if she was floating on a cloud, humming contentedly. He slipped off the bed to go wash his hands, and when he returned, naked, she reached out to him. He complied, curling up beside her.

"Thank you," she murmured before kissing him.

He held her close as the kiss deepened.

"Soooo …" she said once they parted, before she nibbled on his earlobe. "What's the Flavour of the Week?"

He grimaced. "Must you call it that?"

She laughed. "Position of the Week then, how's that?" She smoothed her hand down his side, not stopping until she reached his bottom, giving his cheek a slight pinch.

"From behind," he answered, ignoring the irony of her pinching him.

"Ohhhhhhh! Doggy style!" She leaned closer to him. "Fuck yes!" she purred into his ear, smiling widely when she felt him shiver. She gave his bottom another pinch.

"Must you call it that?" he hissed, making her laugh.

"I know, it is a rather awful name, for such a wonderful position," she said, giving his bottom yet another pinch.

"Stop that!" he snapped, before grabbing her hand and moving it away. "You should rest."

"Three days of sex? I'll need all the rest I can get." She smiled at him, offering her mouth for a kiss. He gave it to her, humming against her lips when she slipped her arms around him, pressing her breasts to his chest. They continued to kiss, until she pulled away. "Oh dear," she said, idly giving his hard cock a stroke. "I think something needs to be done about this!" She sat up, re-positioning herself so that she was at level with his length.

"Molly … you don't have to-mmmmfff-" His words cut off as soon as she took him into her mouth.

She sucked and licked his cock, while gently massaging his balls with her fingers. She licked the swollen head as if it were a lolly, before taking it between her lips and giving it a drawn out suck. He cursed beneath his breath, making her smile. She took more of him into her mouth, then slowly eased it out. After doing this several more times, she took him once more into her mouth and he came. She licked him clean before she sat up. After several moments of catching his breath he gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

"Ohhh …" she whimpered when he slipped his hand between her folds and stroked her swollen clit. She was wet, allowing his fingers to caress her with ease. He kissed her again, drowning out her moans of pleasure as he brought her to the brink with his expert fingers. She sighed happily, pressing her face into his neck. He sucked his fingers clean, then removed the towels from the bed before he reached out to pull the blanket over them.

"Sleep Molly," he instructed.

She gave a small hum of agreement, her eyes already falling closed. They slept through the night. Molly the first to waken the next morning.

Sherlock was sprawled on his back, facing away from her, snoring faintly. The blanket did nothing to hide the erection he was sporting. She giggled quietly before reaching forward to palm his cock. He groaned, his rips rolling as he turned his head towards her and sleepily blinked open his eyes. She smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Mornin'," he rumbled out.

"Good morning," she replied, and as she leaned forward to give him a lingering kiss, she palmed his cock once more, ending with a slight squeeze.

"Fuck …" he groaned out, making her laugh."You're quite ready to start, aren't you?"

"Oh yes!" she agreed.

He sat up, tossing the blanket to the side, allowing her to see just how hard he was for her. The tip of his cock was already glistening. She hummed happily, but just as he reached out for her she leaned back and shook her head. He raised an intrigued eyebrow, then fought back a groan as she positioned herself on her knees and bent forward, placing her hands on the headboard. Her pink wetness was on perfect display. This time he failed to hold back his groan. Moving behind her he gave her seam a quick swipe with his tongue before positioning his throbbing cock, holding firmly onto her hips.

She moaned softly as he rolled his hips  _just so_ so that the head of his cock rubbed against her clit. "Please Sherlock!" she whimpered. "I need you in me now!"

He thrust into her, making her cry out in relief. He held himself still, tightly against her body, his cock as deep in her as it could go.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, feeling his length give a faint twitch. "Fuck me Sherlock, please fuck me!"

He groaned out her name and did just that, the sound of his hips smacking against her bum filling the room. Her soft gasps and low moans went straight to his balls, making his cock quiver and twitch with every thrust. He held onto her hips, revelling in how warm, wet and tight she felt around him.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she suddenly cried out. "I'm going to come! YES! I'm going to come! AHH!"

He leaned back, angling his body so that both his cock and his balls touched her in just the right away. She screamed out his name before pressing her face into the curve of her arm, her walls tightening around his length like a vice. He groaned out a curse, struggling to maintain his composure as he continued to move in and out of her as well as he could. Her walls gave a few more faint flutters, allowing him to pick up the pace of his thrusts. She moaned in encouragement, slowly coming back down from her orgasmic high, determined for him to get his pleasure as well.

"That's it Sherlock," she murmured to him. "Fuck me good and deep!"

"God damnit Molly!" he growled out.

She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling wickedly.

Not missing a single thrust he steadied himself more firmly onto his knees, delving into her fully.

"Mmmmm!" She glanced back at him again, pleased to find him with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on his face as he thrust into her over and over. When she suddenly clenched herself around him, his eyes flew open meeting hers. She did it again, and watched as he came undone, her name a whisper on his lips as he gave one last thrust, pressing his hips against her body.

He leaned forward, placing his forehead against her back as he breathed heavily. She nudged her bum against him, wanting to keep their bodies locked together for as long as possible. She sighed happily, her body thrumming with pleasure.

After a few more moments they managed to uncouple. She laid down on her stomach, stretching herself out, as he laid down beside her. They kissed for a time, basking in the afterglow.

"What is it about that position that feels so incredible?" she asked, her eyes falling closed.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, she popped open her eyes and reached up to place her fingers against his lips.

"Don't. That was a rhetorical question," she said. She could feel him pouting. "Save it for some other time."

He rumbled an agreement, and sat up to grab the sheet to cover them. "I think I'll next take you bent over my chair," he whispered into her ear.

"Oooohhhh! That sounds delightful!" She turned onto her side, keeping her eyes closed as she reached out for him.

He smiled and took her hand in his, settling himself down upon his pillow. Time seemed to grow still as he watched her doze, wondering and allowing himself to hope that they had conceived.

After a short while they got up, pulled on their dressing gowns and made their way into the kitchen. Molly was feeling rather desperate for a cup of tea. This ended up being delayed when Sherlock deemed it necessary to take her from behind, bent over the kitchen table. Not that she was complaining, her moans and cries of delight were proof of that.

Eventually she did manage to have her tea, along with some toast and jam, which he repeatedly stole bites of. Toby kept himself scarce, not exactly enjoying the fact that his humans were making so much noise. Once the breakfast dishes were soaking in the sink, Molly sauntered from the kitchen into the sitting room, dropping her dressing gown to the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder at Sherlock, pleased to find him with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slightly opened. She couldn't help but laugh, amused by his expression. He blinked rapidly for several seconds then closed his mouth and quickly followed her, ripping his dressing gown off in the process.

"I want to taste you, before I fuck you," he said to her.

She moaned in response.

"Sit." He pointed to his chair.

She did as he asked and he kneeled before her. He grabbed her legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders so that she was spread for him. He didn't hesitate, but delved right in, spreading her folds apart with his thumbs as he plunged his tongue into her centre.

"Fuck!" she cried. "Ohhhh!" She buried her hands in his curls as he thrust his tongue in and out of her core.

When he took her clit between his lips, she screamed out his name. He suckled and licked, swirling his tongue over and around her nub. Her thighs shook as she climaxed. He gave each of her folds a quick swipe of his tongue before leaning back and looking up at her. She was breathing heavily, a flush to her cheeks.

He stood, his cock jutting out from his hips. She eyed it hungrily and sat up. Before he could stop her she circled the swollen head with her tongue.

"Molly … fuck, that feels too good!" he groaned.

She stopped and leaned back, waiting for further instruction. "How do you want me?" she asked.

He stepped back and held his hand out to her. She placed her hand in his and he helped her to her feet. He led her around to the back of his chair, smoothing his hand over her back. She turned and gave him a brief kiss, then positioned herself, her palms firmly placed on the top of his chair, her arse beckoning to him. After giving his cock one final pump he placed the tip at her entrance and filled her with one easy stroke. He moved his hands over the curve of her bum, squeezing slightly before he began to thrust.

Keeping his movements slow, he brought his hands up to her breasts and cupped them, giving each a tender massage before taking her nipples between his fingertips. She moaned and leaned further forward, crossing her arms so that she could lean her forehead against them. He muttered a curse beneath his breath, his cock now entering her more deeply. He quickened his pace, continuing to pinch her nipples and massage her breasts.

"Harder Sherlock, please!" she whimpered.

He released her breasts and dropped his hands back to her hips, holding tightly so that he could thrust into her as deeply as he could.

"Mmmm yeah!" she moaned.

He knew her clit wasn't getting the stimulation it needed, the angle was all wrong. Tightening the grip of one hand, he released his other and brought it around to the front of her, his fingers quickly finding the tender bud.

"Oh fuck! AHHH! AHH! YES!" she cried out as his fingers stroked her.

He felt her orgasm before he heard her moan out her release. After giving her clit one final stroke he returned his hand to her hip and thrust as deeply and as quickly as he could until he too reached completion.

His legs felt a bit like rubber as he slipped himself out of her a few moments later. She turned about, leaning back against the chair, smiling at him in a very satisfied way.

"Shower?" she asked, and he nodded.

Once they had cleaned themselves up she announced that she deemed it important for them to take a little bit of a break; i.e. rebuild their strength for the next round of shagging. Sherlock didn't feel it necessary to disagree. They dressed in their rattiest, most comfortable pyjamas and raided their fridge before she settled on the sofa and he sat in his chair. She couldn't help but giggle at the thought of what they had just done. He smirked at her, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

A brief time of silence passed. She had grabbed up the book she had been reading, determined to at least get halfway through it, that is until a certain curly-haired man decided to interrupt.

"Molly?"

"Mmm?"

"I've been thinking."

She lowered her book and looked at him. "Oh you have, have you?"

He glowered at her and she flashed him her cheekiest smile.

"I've come upon an idea," he said to her.

"Ahh. What brilliant idea is this?"

He frowned, a crease forming between his brows. "I never said it was brilliant."

"No. But you were thinking it." She gave him another toothy smile.

He grumbled, curling into a ball as he sank further into his chair.

"So, what's your idea?" she asked, closing her book as she tucked her feet beneath her.

"I'm going to use 221C to meet with clients," he muttered disgruntledly.

She blinked at him. "That awful, damp flat?"

"Yes," he bit out, but his tone softened as he continued, "It will have to be fixed up of course, but Mycroft has people that can do it."

"What's wrong with continuing to use here?" She swept her arm out to encompass the whole room.

He shook his head. "This is  _our_  home. I don't want strangers coming in and tainting this place with their pathetically boring problems."

She bit down on her bottom lip then stood up and walked over to him. His expression shifting as he put both feet flat on the floor and sat up a bit further, knowing that she had every intention of placing herself upon his lap. Once she had done so he clasped his arms about her waist,

"Marriage really has changed you," she said, whilst grinning.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile upon his lips. "Now that we're trying to start a family this place is becoming even more sacred," he said. "I want our children's home to be a safe one. I want  _your_  home to be a safe one."

She kissed him, cupping the side of his face in her hand.

"I was also thinking of turning one of the rooms into my lab," he murmured between nips and nibbles on her neck.

"Ahhh … I've noticed that the kitchen has been abnormally clean," she stated, tilting her head back to grant him greater access.

"It's far too dangerous for me to continue conducting my experiments here, I've been doing what I can at Barts."

She lowered her chin to look at him. "Is that why the lab smelled so strange the other day?"

He had the decency to at least look guilty, even if he didn't verbally admit anything. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"If you blow up the lab, I'm reporting you."

He gaped at her, appalled. "You wouldn't dare!"

She pretended to think. "Mmmm, no actually I wouldn't do that …"

He visibly relaxed.

"I'd call your mother, and tell her what you did."

"MOLLY!"

She giggled, making him grumble in annoyance. She kissed away his pout.

* * *

_A Month Later_

Sherlock was antsy. He had just finished a case, but had desperately missed Molly the entire time that he was gone, even though he had only been away for two days. When he got back he stopped in Boots and bought up several boxes of pregnancy tests, deeming it an appropriate time to start, seeing as she had texted him that her period was due soon.

After a rather vigorous welcome home, she got up from the bed to go to the loo.

"Molly wait! You forgot to bring the test in with you!" he called out to her, just as the door shut.

"Oh for the love of-SHERLOCK! I am NOT taking a pregnancy test every time I go to use the toilet!" She yelled at him through the door.

He waited as he heard the flush, followed by running water as she washed her hands. He held the box limply as he sat upon the edge of the bed. The door opened and she stepped out, moving towards him. She took his face in her hands, tilting his head back so that their eyes could meet.

"It's too early," she said to him. "We need to wait a few more days."

He nodded, tossing the box to the side before slipping his hands around her waist. "I know, I am well aware of that, I just-I allowed my excitement to overpass that knowledge."

She chuckled softly before kissing him. He crossed his arms over her lower back, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

"Don't tell John I said that," he rumbled out before kissing her again, drowning her laughter.

Four days later they were stood in the bathroom, silently waiting as the timer on his phone ticked off the last five seconds.

She grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Ready?" he asked softly.

She nodded. They reached out together for the test, and when they read the display they together let out a sigh of disappointment.

"Negative," she muttered before tossing the test into the bin.

She washed her hands and left the bathroom. He hesitated for a moment, then he too washed his hands and followed her out.

"Molly?"

She was curled into a ball on the bed, facing away from him. He laid down beside her, curling his body against hers.

"This is only the first time," he said to her, gently kissing her neck. "We just have to keep trying."

"I know. It's just … I didn't expect this to bother me so much, to feel so disappointed."

She turned about, pressing her face into his shirt. He locked his arm around her, letting out a slow sigh.

"I'm disappointed too," he murmured. "But it isn't uncommon to not conceive straight away. Look on the bright side Molly-" he paused to brush his nose over the shell of her ear, "-this just means more sex!"

In spite of herself she couldn't help but laugh. She tilted her head back and smiled at him.

"That's better," he said, before giving her a brief kiss. "I don't like seeing you upset." He kissed her again, gently tugging her blouse from her trousers so that he could slip his hand beneath the fabric and stroke at her skin.

"Sherlock …" she murmured between kisses. "What are you doing?"

His hand was making its way upward towards her breast, his hardening length all-too prominent against her thigh.

"Comforting you," he replied, mouthing at her throat.

She snorted softly. "There are other forms of comfort besides sex!"

"Mmm …" His mouth continued to travel downward. "I'm well aware of that, but I am also well aware that sex is your favourite form of comfort."

She snorted again. "Sometimes I really do hate how well you know me."

He raised his head and looked down at her. "No you don't."

She smiled. "No … for the most part I really don't." She placed her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

It was now the middle of the night, and the pair of them were fast asleep. Both of them would have most likely slept through the night without a problem, if it were not for the fact that their mobiles began to ring simultaneously.

Molly jolted awake, letting out a tiny shriek. Sherlock grunted and blindly reached for his phone.

"What the hell?" she grumbled as she too reached out for her phone. Before she even had a chance to look at the caller he was pushing back the covers and leaping from the bed.

"Quickly, get dressed! Mary is in labour!" he exclaimed.

"OH!" Molly gasped.

They both dressed in a rush, Molly pulling her hair up into what could only be called a very-messy bun, but she honestly couldn't give two shits. Sherlock of course managed to make himself look rather impeccable. She couldn't help but eye him with a bit of annoyance and wonder to herself how he managed to do it.

Once dressed they hurried downstairs and outside. Within seconds of Sherlock raising his arm a cab pulled up alongside them. Once again Molly was a bit abashed, she could have sworn that the street had been deserted only a moment ago. They got in and made their way to Barts.

"Another Watson! How wonderful!" Molly said.

"Yes, I suppose."

"Sherlock! You love Emily, stop being such a git." She gave his arm a light shove.

He sniffed. "Mmm, must be the rude awakening."

She laughed. "Well if you hadn't insisted on-" she dropped her voice mid-sentence so that only he could hear, "-shagging me twice, plus oral, we might have managed to get a bit more sleep!"

He smirked, a dreamy look coming onto his face. This time she gave his arm a solid smack.

"Stop thinking about it! Now is neither the time nor the place!" she exclaimed.

He had the decency to blush. "Sorry …"

She rolled her eyes, but managed a giggle when he pulled her up against him and placed a kiss upon her neck. They arrived at Barts a few minutes later. John and his parents were in the waiting room. Emily had been placed in the crèche, no one knowing for certain how long their wait could be, and what followed was a seven hours of waiting.

Mary had a difficult labour, far more difficult than when she had Emily. It wasn't until nearly ten the next morning that at long last Scott Watson entered the world. Both mother and son were doing well, but both were clearly exhausted, as was John, who had been on edge the entire time. After a brief visit, with congratulations all around, and tearful, yet happy gazes (Molly's) on the little boy, they left the Watson's to enjoy their newborn child.

It wasn't until Sherlock and Molly had returned to Baker Street, both of them sore and somewhat grumpy from sitting in the waiting room for so long, that the deluge of emotions poured out of her. She suddenly began to sob uncontrollably, not out of jealousy per se, envy if anything. Sherlock held her, and when she didn't appear to be calming, or her tears to be abating, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom. They laid down upon the bed, and he held her close, not knowing quite what to do except to let her have her cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him when her tears had at last abated, nearly a half hour later.

"There's no need for you to apologise," he said gently.

She felt placated by his words, but still felt the need to explain herself. She pressed her face into his chest, sniffling. "I didn't expect it to feel like that," she said.

He smoothed his hand up and down her back.

"It's just … seeing Mary hold her son," she said, "seeing his little hands and feet, it made the negative test hurt all the more."

Sherlock moved onto his side, pressing the length of her body to his. "We'll keep trying Molly … I'm certain we will be able to conceive."

She nodded, snuggling against him.

"Go to sleep," he said before he pressed his lips to her temple. "I'll text Mike that you won't be able to come in today."

She hooked her leg over one of his. "Love you Sherlock," she murmured.

He nuzzled her hair with his nose. "Love you, too."

* * *

Three weeks later Sherlock, sans John, was at a crime scene of a believed-to-be murder. Sherlock was about to explain to Lestrade what he had deduced, when the sound of a text alert brought his thoughts to a standstill. He knew that the most-likely person to be texting him would be Molly. He took out his phone and read her message.

 _Solve the crime?_  - Mx

 _Yes. Pathetically easy. Should be home within the hour. Lestrade will most likely require me to fill out paperwork. Dismal._ \- SH

Her reply arrived almost instantly. He stared down at his phone, pondering her words:

 _You have a client waiting at Baker Street._  - Mx

He was pondering this because it didn't seem possible. Ever since the construction of 221c had begun, and was already nearly close to finishing (Mycroft truly did have access to some incredible people), Sherlock had stated on his blog that he would only see clients by appointment. He no longer wanted people to randomly show up at all hours at Baker Street, and when someone did, because there was always going to be at least someone who ignored what his blog said, he had Mrs. Hudson send them away. He hated to admit it, but Mrs. Hudson had been right, what she had told him on the morning of John's wedding was true; marriage did change people. He no longer needed cases to keep his mind from going stagnant, Molly's presence was stimulation enough. Pulling himself from his thoughts he realized that he hadn't replied to her.

 _Details on the client, please._  - SH

Her reply came quickly.

 _Black lace. Ovulating wife. Your presence is desired immediately._  - Mx

A smirk appeared on his face. He shifted slightly, his trousers suddenly becoming a bit more tight. He swallowed again as he replied.

 _Are there photos?_  - SH

Her first reply was a smiling emoji, followed quickly with another text.

 _Of course. I knew you would require them._  - Mx

Sherlock briefly glanced about, Lestrade had moved away taking another, unnecessary look at the crime scene. Sherlock angled himself so that no one else but him could see the screen of his mobile. Seconds later two pictures appeared.

The first was her breasts ensconced in black lace, her pink nipples pressing through the sparse openings. The second was the tops of her thighs, allowing him to see that the lace negligee was just long enough to cover her, giving him the faintest glimpse of what lay beneath. His trousers were now painfully tight. He swallowed once more, reaching to make sure his coat was buttoned before sending her a reply.

 _I'll be home in 15 minutes._  - SH

Molly sent him another photo, similar to the last one, but this time with the addition of her hand slipping beneath the lace. After a giving himself a moment to collect and focus his thoughts, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and strode toward Lestrade.

He spewed out his deductions at rapid speed,"This isn't a suicide, but a murder. George Branner didn't jump from his balcony, he was pushed. Pushed by his male lover, Simon Danfield. He's the overnight security guard. Clearly they argued. George told Simon that he wasn't going to be leaving his wife for him. I believe you'll find Simon in his flat wallowing over the death of his beloved." With that said Sherlock spun about once more and strode away from the crime scene

"Hang on! Sherlock!" Lestrade called out to him."Where are you going? You never leave a crime scene this quickly."

Sherlock stopped walking and turned to look at him. "Home," he answered. "I have an important client waiting for me at Baker Street." He turned away once more and hailed a cab. One instantly pulled up, he got into the cab and gave the driver the address to Baker Street, and as the car drove off Lestrade was still standing there watching him go, wondering what exactly had just happened. Sherlock took out his phone and texted Molly that he was on his way. She sent back a rather cheeky reply.

 _Do hurry. The ovulating wife is getting desperate._  - Mx

The ride to Baker Street seemed to take forever. When he at last arrived he quickly paid the driver and all but jumped out of the cab. Within a matter of seconds he was inside the building and hurrying up the stairs to their flat. He called out her name as he walked in, shutting and making sure to lock the door behind him, spotting her instantly.

Molly was sat upon a chair that was placed between Sherlock's and John's, in the exact same manner that they would do when they did indeed have a real client. She was wearing one of his dressing gowns; he had considered buying her several of her own, but rather liked the sight of her in his, and also the thought of the silk fabric caressing her naked skin.

She turned and looked at him, smiling sweetly. "Hello," she murmured softly. She stood and started to walk towards him, her hands moving to the loosen knot in the dressing gown, before saying, "I have a case for you, Mr. Holmes."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! AT LONG LAST AN UPDATE! WOO HOO!!!! *throws confetti* *pops open a bottle of champagne* 
> 
> Of course please let me know what you think of it! Comments really do buoy my spirit! :D


	49. I Have a Case for You, Mr. Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is with an extremely heavy heart that I am posting this chapter, for one of my most beloved readers and friends is no longer with us; my darling Sweets (you may better know her has MaybeItsJustMyType). 
> 
> It has been a continual struggle to fully understand and accept the fact that she is gone. I'm not quite sure if I will ever be able to fully believe it. 
> 
> The desire to write has been driven out of me, not just because of her passing, but also because this has been a rather stressful month. I will be happy to say goodbye to it soon. Thankfully this chapter was nearly complete, I just sort of forgot about it within the melee of reality. So ... here it is at last. I'll try and get the next chapter to you as soon as I can. I used to find solace and refuge in writing, perhaps I will be able to find it again. 
> 
> I've decided to gift this fic to Sweets, in memory of her, since she often listened to me bitch and moan about it, and gave me advice countless times. You are missed, my darling friend.

* * *

"I have a case for you, Mr. Holmes," Molly said as she continued to slowly approach Sherlock, her hands loosening the knot in the dressing gown.

He swallowed thickly. "Do you now?"

"Oh yes." She slipped the dressing gown from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor, revealing the black lace negligee she was wearing beneath. The lace was entirely see-through, allowing him to see her dusty-pink nipples that were already hard and straining against the fabric. He was surprised though to discover that she was wearing knickers.

"And what is this case?" His voice sounded hoarse, and much deeper than usual.

She stepped closer to him, he hadn't moved at all.

"I need you to solve something for me. I want you to figure out how long you can last without touching me ... while you watch as I … touch myself."

She dipped her head down slightly, peering up at him through her lashes. He distinctly remembered the one other time she had looked at him like this. It was during their first time that they had made love and she had asked him to undress her.

He swallowed thickly again, certain that she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He could feel that his cock was hard and straining against his trousers. With another smile she stepped around him and began to make her way towards the bedroom. When he still hadn't moved, she turned around and looked at him.

"Aren't you coming?" she questioned, quirking her eyebrow.

With a mental shake of his head he quickly shrugged off his coat and yanked off his scarf, before following her towards the bedroom, saying to her, "I intend to, perhaps several times tonight."

She let out a soft laugh, closing the bedroom door behind him. He wanted to touch her so badly, feel her soft, supple skin beneath his fingers, but he also wanted to continue this little game that she had going. There was a chair placed directly before the bed. He looked at it then looked at her. A cheeky grin spread across her face.

"Undress, then have a seat," she instructed, gesturing towards the chair.

She sat herself upon the bed, near the edge of the mattress and directly in line with the chair. She spread her legs, the hem of her lace negligee hitching up onto her hips, allowing him to see that the knickers she wore were in fact crotchless, gifting him a perfect view of her glistening sex.

Sherlock swore loudly, fumbling to undo the button and zip of his trousers, while also nearly falling forward as he tried to toe off his shoes. She giggled while watching him. He muttered beneath his breath as he finished undressing, and as soon as he was naked he sat and took his aching cock in his hand and gave it a few pumps. She licked her lips as she watched him, and for a moment he thought that perhaps she wasn't going to be able to go through with this, that she would instead insist on riding his cock straight away. But no, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was determined. He gave his cock another pump, spreading with his thumb the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip.

She sighed slowly, bringing both of her hands up to cup her breasts, rolling her lace-covered nipples between her fingertips, not once taking her eyes off of his. She gave each nipple a hard pinch, sucking in her breath slightly, before slipping one hand down over her stomach, her fingertips just brushing over the top of her pubic mound.

His lips parted, his breathing quickening, he could feel his heart racing. He could not tear his eyes away from Molly's fingers, watching as they slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, moved towards her slit. She spread her legs a bit further apart, steadying herself on her tiptoes, her folds parting. What a glorious sight she was giving him!

She too was breathing quite heavily. She moved her hand away from her wet centre, and instead gave her right inner thigh a stroke with her fingers. Sherlock very nearly let out a groan of disappointment, his cock still clasped in his hand. She gave her left inner thigh a few strokes as well, before dragging a finger tip up one side of her labia lips, then down the other, gathering up her juices.

She lifted her finger to her mouth and sucked it clean. He swore, giving his cock a hard pump. She flashed him an impish smile, then dropped her hand back down and slid her finger into her beckoning core. She gasped, throwing her head back as she slowly pumped her finger in and out, before letting out a low moan as she added another finger. She rocked her hips along with the movement of her fingers, practically gripping at the floor with her toes. Just as she was about to bring her other hand down to stroke at her clit she let out a wild cry when she felt his mouth there, surprised that she had not heard him move.

Her eyes flew open, her fingers inside of her coming to a standstill as she gazed down at him. He was kneeling between her spread legs, peering up at her. His pupils were blown wide, almost completely black. He worked his tongue on her clit and she moaned loudly.

"It would seem you cannot last very long!" she gasped out.

He smiled and flicked her with the tip of his tongue, sending a shudder through her body. He grasped onto her hips with his hands, holding her down onto the bed.

"Keep working your fingers inside of you, Molly." His voice rumbled around her taut little nub, sending another shudder through her body. "Fuck yourself, while I suck on your delicious clit!"

She gasped again, throwing her head back as he continued to suckle and lick her. Her hips began to roll once more as she pumped her fingers, curling them slightly upwards when she thrust them in.

"Oh! FUCK!" she cried out, feeling herself clamp down onto her fingers, her orgasm washing over her in a great rush while Sherlock gave her clit several tender kisses.

She whimpered as he took a hold of her hand. Dropping her head forward she watched as he sucked her fingers clean before returning his mouth to her folds in order to lick away the fresh flow of juices. She dug her fingers into his curls, her eyes falling closed. When he was finished he moved to pull away and she loosened her hold on his hair. He stood, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand, before he scooped her up in his arms. He cradled her body close against his, and kissed her. He climbed onto the bed, moving her with him, and settled her down onto her back once he reached the middle of the mattress.

"You are an absolute minx, Mrs. Holmes!" he declared.

She gave his bottom lip a nibble."You love it!"

"Mmm, I do!" He kissed her again, palming her breast. "This needs to come off!" He gave the hem of her negligee a slight tug. "But these can stay." He dragged his finger across the hem of her crotchless knickers.

She chuckled and he moved to the side so that she could sit up. "It had the desired effect though, did it not?" She slipped off the negligee, tossing it to the floor prior to laying back down.

He covered her body with his own and latched onto her nipple, murmuring a noise of satisfaction before releasing it so that he could say, "It did." He switched to her other breast, determined to give both equal attention.

"Sherlock? Ohhh…" she whimpered, he was nibbling her skin, just the way she liked it. He released her from his mouth and lifted his head, leaving a trail of kisses up her neck before hovering his lips over hers.

"Yes?" he questioned.

She opened her eyes, directly meeting his gaze. "Let's make a baby," she murmured softly.

He slowly smiled, nuzzling her nose with his. "All right."

They kissed again, slowly allowing it to grow in passion. He blindly reached out for a pillow. When he had one in his grasp he gave her hip a slight tap with his finger. She lifted herself off the mattress and he tucked the pillow beneath her bum.

Once she had settled herself down onto the pillow he broke apart the kiss, placing his knees on either side of her. Her hips were now tilted further upwards. He cupped his hands underneath her thighs, lifting her legs until they became settled comfortably on either side of his hips. He stared down at her, spread open, waiting to be filled by him. His cock twitched at the sight, the open knickers sending a tantalizing thrill down his back. What was it about them that turned him on so much? He needed to inspect that thought …  _later._

Molly sighed happily, reaching down to grasp his cock in her hand. His eyes dropped closed as she gently stroked him. She lined him up with her wet opening, letting the tip rest against her. His eyes flew open, meeting hers. Their gaze stayed locked as he slid into her with ease.

He watched her mouth form a perfect 'o' as he became fully seated inside of her. Dropping his head down, he pressed his nose against her clavicle and panted slightly.

"Christ Molly, we should have done this sooner, you feel incredible like this!"

Her only reply was a soft whimper as she lifted her hips to press up against his. She wanted him to move, she needed him to. He lifted up his head, their eyes meeting once more, he slid his entire length out before giving a quick, solid thrust.

"Yes!" she cried out, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he continued to move.

Their bodies rocked together, the room filling with the sounds of their soft sighs and moans of pleasure. She locked her legs behind him, her heels digging into his lower back, keeping his body close to hers. They kissed and panted against each other's lips, whispering names, telling each other how good they were making the other feel.

With each stroke of his cock, the lace of her knickers brushed against his skin, it was a titillating sensation. "Close!" his voice cracked as he said this.

"Ohhh! So am I!" she cried,

They kissed again as he began to pick up speed. She cried out again, her back arching up off the mattress, her breasts pressing into his chest. He slipped his arm underneath her, holding her close against him as he came, emptying himself into her. She collapsed against his arm and he gently settled her back down, pulling his arm out from beneath her. Her legs unlocked and dropped down onto the bed, but she kept her knees bent.

He slipped out of her, falling onto his side next to her. After a brief moment of catching his breath he pressed his lips to hers, breathing loudly out of his nose. She giggled softly, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him back. When they parted for breath he laid his head down on her chest.

They stayed like this, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, and enjoying the quiet.

"What do you want?" she murmured after a few moments.

"Hmmm?" He was tracing chemical equations with his fingertips on her stomach.

"A boy or a girl, which do you want?"

He nuzzled at her skin. "Either. It doesn't matter. As long as the child is healthy."

She slid her hand over his shoulder to play with the slightly damp hair at the nape of his neck. "I think I want a boy, a little mini-you waddling about."

He exhaled noisily against her skin causing her to giggle again. "Just as long as he has your disposition!" he declared. She let out slight squeal when he gave her skin a nip with his teeth.

"How long do I have to stay like this?" She shifted her legs slightly.

"At least ten minutes, perhaps a bit longer," he replied.

She scrunched her nose slightly and he chuckled. They continued to lay there quietly, while he slowly moved his hand up and down her abdomen. When he suddenly leaned forward and brushed his nose against her softened nipple she let out a quiet laugh.

"You are such a breast man," she said.

He reared back. "Breast man?" he repeated this slowly, looking at her.

"Mmmhmm, breasts. You love breasts."

"I think that sentence needs rephrasing." He moved forward. "I don't  _love_  breasts, I only love  _your_ breasts." He latched onto her nipple, giving it a gentle suckle before circling her areola with his tongue.

She let out a happy sigh, enjoying his ministrations. When he began to lick the underside she laughed once more. He exhaled against her skin and raised his head.

"Now what?"

She worried her bottom lip, stifling her giggles. "A sudden thought just came to me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do share?"

"Well … when we do have a child, I intend to breastfeed … so that means that you won't be able to lavish my breasts with the same amount of attention as you do now."

He scowled.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you going to be jealous of your own child?"

His scowl was replaced with a pout.

"Oh stop it!" She gave his curls a slight tug with her hand.

With rapid speed he took her breast once more into his mouth, massaging the other one with his fingers. She gasped, burying her hand back into his curls.

"I'll just have to spend these next nine months lavishing them constantly with attention," he murmured against her skin.

She chuckled. "Like I said, breast man!"

With a final, tender suckle he lifted his head and their eyes met. "Not just a breast man, Mrs. Holmes, I do love your bum as well!"

She grabbed him, pulling him up to her for a heated kiss.

"You just said nine months; do you think a baby has been conceived?" she asked this breathlessly.

He gave a slight shrug, "At this moment, we can only hope!"

They shared a smile, then kissed again.

* * *

_A Month Later_

Molly stepped from the kitchen and into the sitting room, a cup of tea in her hand. "So is it nearly done?" she questioned, taking a sip of her tea.

"Mmm? Is what nearly done?" Sherlock asked, not looking away from his laptop, continuing to type furiously.

"221C."

"Oh that. Yes. Almost finished." He still hadn't looked at her.

"Can I go have a look?"

His head snapped to the side, his gaze meeting hers. "No. Definitely not."

Her eyes narrowed at his adament tone. "Why on earth not?"

"Far too dangerous."

She rolled her eyes. "How can it be dangerous? They aren't rebuilding anything."

"It's the air, there could be toxic particles floating about." He waved his hands in demonstration, before returning his gaze to his computer screen.

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous antics of her husband, and put her tea down on the nearby table before she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not pregnant yet Sherlock." She uncrossed her arms and moved to reach for her tea.

"Actually, you are."

She very nearly knocked her cup off the table. "What?" she asked, her eyes gone wide. But even in her shock she managed to catch the cup.

He stopped typing, then slowly peered at her. "Ahh … didn't mean to tell you quite like that."

"I'm-I'm pregnant?" She brought one hand to her stomach, the tea in her other hand other sloshing up the sides of her cup as she attempted to place it back down, without watching what she was doing.

He stood and walked over to her. "Yes, you are."

"You're-you're certain?"

"You can take a test if you like, but yes, I am certain that you are."

A laugh gushed out of her before she briefly covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God! I'm pregnant! We're going to have a baby!"

Sherlock was smiling now. He took the cup from her, setting it down smoothly on the small side table before he he slipped his arms around her, leaning his forehead against hers. "Yes, we are."

She reached up to take his face in her hands and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. After returning her kiss he gently scooped her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom.

"What are you doing?" she asked, giggling.

"Celebrating," he murmured as he laid her down upon the bed. "I'll be gentle," he said, placing his hand on her stomach.

"You always are. Unless I ask you not to be," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

She kissed him, and they began to undress. Their hands wandered over newly revealed flesh, stroking. Their mouths wandered too, kissing and suckling. By the time Sherlock entered her, her body was thrumming with pleasure. He made love to her slowly, kissing every part of her body that he could reach. When she suddenly whispered to him that she wanted to be on top, he instantly complied, perfectly willing to give her anything and everything that she wanted.

He watched her ride his cock, her head thrown back, her breasts moving in time with her movements. She looked positively glorious. He smoothed his hand across her stomach, in awe of the life that was growing inside of her. Her noises eventually distracted him, as well as her quickening pace. Moving his hand, he stroked at her clit with his thumb and watched her as she came. Her cry of bliss sent him tumbling over the edge. He held tightly onto her hips, thrusting up into her as he moaned her name.

Reaching up he cradled her in his arms, and settled her down onto the bed, both of them breathing heavily. She looked at him and smiled widely. He kissed her, draping his arm across her.

"I love you," he mumbled against her lips as he gave her a gentle kiss.

"Love you too," she whispered breathlessly in return.

The next day Molly stopped at Boots on her way to work to pick up a pregnancy test. It wasn't that she doubted Sherlock's deduction, it wasn't that at all, she just wanted to see the positive results for herself; to have a physical form of proof. And she knew that there was ample equipment at the hospital, but for the time being she wanted only for the two of them to know, seeing as gossip easily traveled between the floors.

Once she arrived at Barts she quickly sequestered herself in the bathroom and took out the test. The minutes she had to wait for the appearance of the results felt like an age, but the moment she held up the test and saw the positive lines she couldn't stop herself from letting out a squeal of delight. After washing her hands, she took a picture and sent it to Sherlock. His reply arrived quickly.

_:)_  SH

She stared at her phone in shock, certain that he had never, in all the time she had known him, used any form of emoji. She giggled at the thought. After she tossed the test into a bin and washed her hands once more, she grabbed up her mobile and called him.

" _I knew you'd take a test,"_  he said to her.

"It's nice seeing the proof."

" _There will be proof soon enough,"_  he noted.

She made a small noise of agreement as she moved down the hall, absentmindedly stroking her stomach. "When should we tell everyone?"

" _I think we should wait a little while."_

She opened the door to her office and walked inside. "Yes, I suppose we should. Your mother is going to be over the moon, Sherlock!"

He sighed despondently. " _I know. She's quite given up on Mycroft, which means she'll be out in full force for us! I know she's kept some of our old things, she might even have one of our old prams! Good Lord, she may even have our cots!"_

Molly giggled. "That would really be lovely, I don't have anything from when I was a baby. My mum threw everything out, she didn't keep a thing … the cow."

They both grew quiet for a moment.

" _Molly … I know that … I know that it's difficult for you, to not have your family anymore … please … my mother loves you, I know she does … don't ever hesitate to call her. She would be, as you put it 'over the moon!', of course after a whole minute of berating me for never calling her."_

Molly laughed again, wiping back a tear that had traveled down her cheek. "Thank you Sherlock, it's nice to hear that. I love you, so much."

" _As I love you."_

The following week Sherlock announced to her that 221C was finished and that it was now perfectly safe for her to go and see it. He purposely went down the stairs ahead of her, so that if on any account she were to slip, he would catch her. She made certain to take each stair carefully, knowing that even though his back was to her, he was very aware of her every move.

Mrs. Hudson was currently out with a new beau, otherwise she surely would have been fluttering about them, tittering on about the noise and all the smells that she had to put up with for the last few months. Molly's mouth dropped open as she followed Sherlock into the flat.

"Oh my God!" she gasped out. "Are you sure we actually came down stairs? This looks just like our flat! Well, nearly almost. I wasn't expecting this at all. WOW!" She turned on her heel, taking it all in.

The two wallpapers were the same, as were the majority of the furnishings.

"Managed to find nearly identical chairs," Sherlock said, gesturing to the two chairs that were sat nearby the gas fireplace. "I wasn't about to remove the ones from our flat! They belong there!"

She smiled and moved over to him, looping her arms around his waist she stood on tiptoe in order to press her mouth to his in a brief kiss. "It looks amazing. John will be shocked!" She settled back down onto her feet. "Have you set up your lab?"

"Yes." He took her hand in his and led her towards one of the closed doors. "I requested a keypad lock to be installed, so that no nosy clients can get in, nor our children." He turned to look at her with a smile as he finished his sentence.

She let out a soft snort. "Not that that will hold back any child of yours! They'll have the keycode figured out in seconds flat."

His smile widened as he typed in his code. "Yes, I suppose that they will." He pushed opened the door and beckoned her inside.

"Oh! Wow. It looks just like the lab at Bart's!" she exclaimed.

"Mmm … that was another request of mine. Home away from home and all."

She hugged him. "Just don't go getting into your head that you can steal any of Barts' equipment!"

"I wouldn't dare!" he scoffed.

"No, of course not. How could I possibly be so presumptuous as to suggest such a thing? Ohh … I suppose it's because you repeatedly steal body parts," she retorted.

He put his arms around her, suckling at a freckle on her neck. "I don't steal them. You bring them home!"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I suppose that is very true."

They left the lab, Sherlock closing the door behind them.

"It really does look amazing," she said, giving the flat another look over.

"I think we need to christen it," he said pulling her to him.

"Sherlock!" she shrieked, pushing him away.

"Why not?" he grumbled. "We've had sex on practically every surface of 221B! Shouldn't we continue the tradition … down here?" He added a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows to the end of his sentence.

She shook her head and muttered something beneath her breath that sounded very much like 'libido' and 'insatiable'. Before he could continue his efforts in convincing her, she launched herself at him. He caught her, gathering her into his arms as she kissed him passionately.

"Hormones," she muttered between kisses.

"Mmm … I locked the door," he said.

There was a mad scramble to remove clothing, and once they were both naked he kneeled down before her, covering the small swell of her belly with open-mouth kisses. He continued to travel downwards, giving her seam a quick swipe with his tongue. A shudder coursed through her body, and he locked his arm around her to help hold her steady. He nuzzled at her clit, tenderly taking it between his lips. She mewled softly, rocking her body against his mouth. When her noises grew in pitch he pulled away, and as he stood she made a noise of disappointment.

He smiled at her, gathering her face in his hands so that he could kiss her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She gently pushed him towards his chair, and they moved towards it.

"Sit," she said to him.

He did as she asked, his hard cock jutting out from his hips. She hummed in delight, eyeing his length hungrily. She moved to her knees and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. Sherlock leaned his head back, reveling in the warmth of her mouth and tongue. She took in more of him, suckling and licking his length as she stroked the base with her fingertips, cradling his balls with her other hand. But when he rolled his hips she pulled away, releasing him with a slight pop. His cock gave a very prominent twitch. She smiled and stood.

"Turn about," he said to her.

"Hmmm?"

"Turn about," he repeated, "and lower yourself down on me." He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock.

"Ohhhh …"

She turned her back to him as he spread his legs further apart. He slipped his arm around her, helping her to step back before she slowly sank down onto his cock, surrounding him with her tight, wet heat. Both of them sighed happily. He reached up and took her breasts into his hands, squeezing them tenderly. Tilting forward slightly, with her hands on his knees, she began to ride him. He kept his feet planted firmly on the floor, giving her leverage. Her bum pressed against his hips every time that she dropped down onto him; it shouldn't have sent a quiver through his length, it was such a simple thing, but it did every single time.

"You're cock is hitting my g-spot, Sherlock! Fuck!" Her sentence ended with a whimper.

He rolled her taut nipples between his fingertips, groaning her name as she began to quicken her pace. "You feel so good Molly!"

She only moaned in reply. "Ahh! Ahh!"

"Fuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkk….." he hissed out suddenly, his climax arriving without warning. He raised his hips to bury himself as deep in her as he could.

"OHHH! Oh! Oh God! Oh Sherlock!" she cried, his movements sending her over the edge. She fell back against his chest, the force of her orgasm making her tremble.

He held onto her, his cock continuing to pulse and twitch, still buried inside of her. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart, pulsing against her back. She turned her head just as he raised his and their lips met. She reached back, cradling his head in her hand, her fingers carding through his curls.

"Shower?" he suggested. "We can test out the new plumbing."

Molly snorted a laugh and he helped her to her feet.

They spent the majority of the time kissing beneath the spray of water, and didn't surface from the shower until the water ran cold. There were towels piled high in one of the cabinets (Mycroft really had thought of everything). Sherlock wrapped Molly up in one, tugging her close to him, in order to kiss her once more. She smoothed her hands across his cheekbones, before crossing her arms over the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

After a quick dry off they put back on their clothes, and settled down onto the sofa. Molly curled up against him, smiling.

"Your brother really outdid himself," she said. "I really do almost feel as if I am in our flat! It's quite mind-boggling."

Sherlock gave a faint sniff. "I think it's Anthea who actually deserves your praise."

"Mmm … true … but he did put in the request …"

"Oh do hush Molly," Sherlock grumbled, tilting her head so that he could kiss her.

* * *

The next two months that followed were pure hell. Molly could barely keep anything down, be it food or drink. Her morning sickness did not stick to a specific time of day, leaving her drained and listless. She had no choice but to repeatedly take off of work until the worst had passed. By the time the third month rolled around she was starting to feel much better, she still experienced bouts of nausea but far less throughout the day; it only rearing its awful head every now and then. This was when her appetite returned, and she truly began to realize that she was in fact eating for two. What surprised her though was how rapidly she seemed to be gaining weight. She couldn't help but wonder to herself if she was perhaps eating too much.

When she started to truly show that she was carrying a new life inside of her, Sherlock took it into his head that he needed to deduce if they were going to have a boy or a girl. For the most part she put up with his antics, even if some of them bordered on the ridiculous.

"How can the direction that my pillow is positioned help predict if I am carrying a boy or girl?" she admonished. "Honestly Sherlock, that just sounds like a silly old wive's tale!"

The harder he tried, the more frustrated he became, ending in them only snapping at each other. Molly's hormones were fluctuating constantly, at times all she wanted was a snuggle and kiss from Sherlock, and other times any little thing that he did set her off. Eventually it appeared that he had put an end to his deductions, but in fact he continued them quietly, but to no avail. He could not reckon which it was that she was carrying, much to his dismay.

"We should invite your parents for dinner," she suggested one evening.

He let out a groan of annoyance. "Must we?"

"Yes, we must. We need to tell them that I'm pregnant. If we wait any longer they'll figure it out themselves when I start to really show!"

He gave a snort of disagreement. "My parents are rather obtuse. I'd doubt they'd be able to."

"SHERLOCK!"

He frowned. "Not good?"

"Not good indeed! Honestly. You think far too little of your parents. Your mother is a brilliant woman, the career she could have had if she hadn't chosen to give it up for you and your brothers! And your father is no fool either. They deserve far more respect than you give them."

He sank down into his chair, his frown deepening, realizing how much he had erred. "I'm a fool, Molly."

"In regards to certain things, yes you are."

He glanced up at her, a pitiful expression on his face. She moved over to him, placing herself on his lap. He hooked his arms around her, settling her against his chest.

"You can't be brilliant at everything, my darling," she said gently.

He sighed. "I suppose that is a cross I will have to bear."

She giggled. "So, do you agree? We'll have your parents over for dinner?"

He nodded.

"We can invite Mary and John as well, that way it's not just a family thing."

"But Mary and John are family," he stated.

Molly smiled widely. "Ahhh … see you are smarter than you look!"

His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing. She laughed again before placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Do you remember the last time we had the Watson's over for dinner," she asked, "when I became unwell?"

Sherlock nodded. "I drunkenly and incorrectly deduced that you were pregnant."

"Mmhmmm." She started to kiss her way down the side of his face, briefly pausing to nuzzle at his cheek, before she came to his lips and hovered over them. "We've come a long way since then, haven't we?" she asked, her eyes meeting his.

"Yes." His voice was thick with emotion. He smoothed his hand across her stomach, sensing the faint, tell-tale curve of her belly.

She kissed him, sighing against his lips as he deepened the kiss.

"I love you," he whispered to her.

"Mmm, love you too."

They continued to kiss.

"Do you think we should invite Mycroft and Anthea as well?" she asked, a few minutes later.

"Hmmm … maybe I don't love you as much as I thought."

She bit down on his earlobe, making him yelp.

"Guess I deserved that."

She nibbled at his neck.

"If you ask Mycroft he'll say no straightaway," Sherlock told her. "You'll have to ask Anthea."

"Mmmm … noted."

The following day Molly was in the lab, sat in front of a microscope studying a blood sample, when she suddenly felt as if someone was staring at her. She hadn't heard anyone enter the room, which led her to deduce that it had to be a Holmes. Only they could move so quietly.

"Were you planning on announcing yourself or just continuing to watch me?" she asked, not moving away from the microscope.

"My apologies Molly, I had no intentions to frighten you."

She smiled. "It's quite all right Mycroft, living with Sherlock has gotten me used to sudden appearances." She turned about to face him. "If you're here to beg off from coming to dinner, it's not going to work. You're coming whether you like it or not." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him defiantly.

He smiled slightly. "Fear not, I had no intentions of doing so."

Molly smirked. "Anthea threatened to kick you out of the bedroom eh?"

The tips of his ears burned bright red.

"Ahhh, the Ice Man melteth!"

He glowered at her, an expression very similar to Sherlock's, which led her to laugh.

"Sorry Mycroft! I couldn't resist."

He sniffed slightly before straightening his waistcoat. "I believe congratulations are in order."

She smiled. "How long have you known?"

"From the moment I entered the room, hence the reason for my delay in alerting you of my presence."

Her smile widened, not in the least bit surprised.

"Are you pleased?" he questioned.

"Yes, very much so. We both are," she replied.

He nodded, removing an invisible thread from the sleeve of his suit jacket. "I am happy, for both of you. But you must prepare yourself Molly, you may have thought that Sherlock was protective before, but he'll be far more adamant about it now."

"Oh, I'm well aware of it. I'm certain that the reconstruction of 221C is just a tiny inkling of what is to come."

"Mmm. Quite."

"Just think though, once your parents know the pressure will at last be taken off of you and Anthea to procreate."

Mycroft's eyes bulged in horror. "Can we end this conversation?  _Now_?"

Molly giggled. "Sorry, but what good is it to have a brother-in-law if I can't tease him a little bit?"

He breathed out loudly through his nose.

"Was there a reason for your visit?" she said to him. "You don't usually come here."

"Must I have a reason to visit my sister-in-law?" he asked, a faint smile about his lips.

"Usually yes."

He sighed. "Nothing gets passed you."

"Nope. It's the price you pay for being married to a Holmes."

Mycroft made a small noise of agreement.

"Well?" she asked.

He tapped the tip of his brolly on the floor before making his reply, "Sherlock has requested that I provide you a car to procure you to and from work. I came here to fully understand as to why."

Molly smiled. "And now you know."

"Yes. I had an inkling, but I wanted to make certain."

Her smile widened. "I'm actually glad you're here."

His eyebrows rose. "That is not a sentence I am accustomed to hearing."

Molly laughed as she moved to her feet. "There is an idea that I have, and I want to know if it is feasible or not."

"Yes?"

"I want to make John's old bedroom into a nursery, but as a surprise for Sherlock," she explained.

This time Mycroft raised a single eyebrow.

"I know, I know, to even attempt to surprise Sherlock would be quite a feat, but couldn't you give him a case that would take him away from Baker Street for a couple of days?"

Mycroft considered for a moment. "I suppose that could work."

"It doesn't have to be done straight away," she said. "I think it would be best to wait a little while longer."

"Mmmm…"

"I'll need to do some research, on what I would like in the nursery. I was considering a bee theme."

The corners of Mycroft's lips quirked upwards. "Charming."

Two days later Molly had set up a Skype call with Meena and Sherrinford. A wide smile came to her face when they appeared on the screen.

"Say hello Sherlock!" Molly turned her laptop so that they could see him. He was sat at his desk, typing away madly on his own laptop.

"Hello Sherlock," he deadpanned, not looking away from his screen.

Molly rolled her eyes, turning the laptop back towards her. "Tit," she muttered beneath her breath.

"I heard that," he said, resulting in a giggle from Meena and a smile from Sherrinford.

"That was the intention!" Molly trilled, smiling widely.

He huffed out an annoyed breath. She continued to smile as she leaned closer to the screen.

"He's not in the best of moods," she stage-whispered. "He has the prospects of the 'family dinner' tomorrow, it's  _looming_  over him."

"Molly!" he groused, making her laugh.

"Get your arse over here!" she said to him. "The news I want to share involves you as well!"

Sherrinford watched in awe as his twin brother gave an almighty (albeit rather dramatic) sigh, and stood before walking towards his wife and sat on the arm of the chair. Molly angled the laptop so that both of them could be seen.

"So what is this news?" Meena questioned.

Molly looked up at Sherlock for a brief moment. When he gave her a nod of affirmation she returned her gaze to the screen.

"I'm pregnant!" she announced.

"OH MY GOD!" Meena squealed, making Sherlock grimace. "Congratulations! That's fantastic!"

"Congratulations you two," Sherrinford said with a smile. "You are both going to be wonderful parents."

Sherlock eyed his brother, trying to deduce if he was being flippant or truly meant what he said. He felt a strange flutter in his heart when he realized that his brother was being sincere.

"Do you know if you're having a boy or a girl?" Meena asked.

"No, not yet. It's still a bit too early," Molly replied. "Although Sherlock has been trying his hardest to deduce it."

He let out an annoyed huff, not appreciative that she was sharing his failures. She laid her hand on the top of his thigh.

"And how is your little one doing?" she asked.

Both Meena's and Sherrinford's faces lit up at the mention of their son.

"He's doing well," Meena answered. "He's napping right now, otherwise I'd show him to you."

Molly smiled. "That's wonderful to hear. I've been really enjoying the photos you've been sending. He's so beautiful!" She could practically hear Sherlock rolling his eyes.

Sherrinford was chuckling. "Just you wait until your child gets here, Sherlock. Then you'll understand."

The following evening Molly was busy bustling about the kitchen. She had kicked out Sherlock after one too many times of him making comments. He was currently sulking in his chair, but keeping a weathered eye on her movements.

"If you really do want to help," she called out to him, "you can set the table!"

He moved to his feet, grumbling beneath his breath as he walked into the kitchen. He stopped the moment she turned about and gave him a look. His pout returned but he stayed silent as he gathered up the plates, napkins and silverware she had already set aside.

The moment he was finished with the table she stepped out of the kitchen, sidled up alongside of him and stood on her tip toes so that she could give him a kiss. He slipped his arm around her waist, deepening the kiss.

"It's just dinner …" she murmured softly to him. "And if you behave tonight … I'll give you a special reward!" She slipped her hand down to his bottom, giving the cheek of his arse a slight pinch.

His eyes lit up before he kissed her again, slipping his hand down her back to palm her bum. She let out a faint squeak against his lips, and quickly stepped out of his hold, hurrying into the kitchen. He was smirking as he watched her.

A short while later John and Mary arrived, John carrying Emily and Mary carrying Scott, along with what looked like supplies for a two day stay, at least.

"What's all this?" Sherlock questioned, as they entered the sitting room.

John set down Emily and she immediately made her way towards Sherlock. He picked her up and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"This is Emily's play-pen," John explained, somewhat wearily."Also some of her toys, a blanket, and a change of clothes for her, then there is Scott's nappy bag, which I am not going to even begin to describe what that contains."

Molly was busy cooing over little Scott. She was cradling him in her arms as he peered up at her wide-eyed. After a moment she glanced up at Sherlock. He had been watching her, his heart thumping at the sight, knowing that within several months he would be seeing her holding their own child. He gave her the tiniest of nods.

She smiled widely, then looked from Mary to John. "Sherlock and I have some news," she said to them, just as Scott wrapped his tiny hand around her finger. They looked at her expectantly. "I'm pregnant," she said.

"Oh my God!" Mary exclaimed. "Molly that's wonderful! Congratulations!" She gave her a gentle hug, placing her hand on the back of Scott's head.

John was staring at Sherlock wide-eyed. "Wow, congratulations mate! A mini-Holmes, what a sight that will be!"

"Mmm … don't forget they will be half-Hooper," Sherlock noted.

"Yeah, thank goodness for that," John stated.

Sherlock sniffed slightly, but then said, "I must say I have to agree."

It was now late, nearly half-past one in the morning. Molly was lying back against her pillow, breathing rather heavily due to the vigorous shagging that Sherlock had just given her. He was lying beside her, a rather punch drunk look upon his face.

The dinner had been a complete success, and the icing on the cake (in every literal sense of the word) was the chocolate cake that Molly served at the end. During the eating of said cake, she announced her pregnancy. There were cries of joy and tears were shed, both by Molly and by Mummy Holmes, even Siger was found to be wiping his eyes. Amidst the kerfuffle, Mycroft managed to sneak in a second slice of cake, his only recompense for surviving the evening. Sherlock, of course, noticed this but opted on not saying anything, not willing to risk losing Molly's promised reward.

Once everyone had gone the reward had started off with her undoing the fastenings of Sherlock's trousers, freeing his cock. But he only allowed her a few moments of sucking him into her mouth before he reached down and scooped her into his arms, and carried her to their bedroom.

What followed was a desperate removal of clothing, items flying hither and thither, until she was stretched out naked beneath him. He spread her legs open and gave her folds a quick swipe with his tongue, before settling his legs on either side of her hips and sliding his cock deep within her.

"That's it big boy," she encouraged. "Fuck me!"

He growled out a curse, and did just that, while squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples. When her moans grew desperate he reached down between them, and swirled his thumb over and around her clit until she was screaming out his name, her walls tightening around his cock in the most delightful way. He only managed several more artless thrusts before he too joined her over the edge. Moments later he collapsed onto the bed, beside her.

"Wow," she at last managed to say, having somewhat caught her breath.

Sherlock gave a slight hum of agreement, raising his arm when she rolled onto her side so that she could tuck herself against him. They shared a few tender kisses before she pulled away, making a sound of annoyance.

"Blast, I have to pee," she muttered as she sat up and slid towards the edge of the bed. "And this is just the beginning! It's going to get worse as the baby grows bigger!"

Sherlock silently watched her as she walked towards the bathroom, rather enjoying the sight of her naked body. The rounded curve of her belly sent his heart hammering. He was determined to cover her belly with kisses the moment she returned to their bed. The realization struck him that he was turning into a completely sentimental fool, but he honestly didn't care in the slightest.

She returned a few minutes later, giggling as he pulled her down onto the bed. He kissed her deeply, a kiss which she returned wholeheartedly. She sighed softly as he continued to kiss his way down her body, stopping to tenderly nuzzle each of her breasts before he made his way to her stomach. He covered her skin in kisses, stroking her with his fingers, murmuring to the new life forming inside of her.

Molly watched him, tears forming in her eyes while she moved her fingers through his curls. It was such a tender moment, one she wished she could freeze in time so that she could return to it whenever she wished.

Once he stopped and pressed his cheek to the side of her belly, she quietly spoke his name. He raised his head and looked at her.

"I love you," she whispered.

He crawled up the length of her body and kissed her, mumbling "love you too," between more kisses.

* * *

For nearly two weeks now, London had been experiencing what could be only described as an absolute deluge of rain. Molly joked more than once that she felt that they should start building an ark. Upon entering the third week of nearly nonstop rain Sherlock was called out on a case to Northern Ireland, leaving her alone in the flat. She was going out less and less now, mostly because he had requested it. The weather had put him on edge, and he felt that it would be wisest for her to stay indoors, out of the damp, leaving the flat only when she had to; i.e. for work or to do the shopping when he was not there to do it himself. Mycroft procured his car for her whenever she needed it, seeing as Sherlock had made it very clear that he did not want her to take any cabs or the tube.

The day after Sherlock left she had a doctor's appointment. He had wanted to delay his leaving so that he could come with her, but she insisted that he needed to go as soon as possible due to the fact that there was a serial killer on the loose, and that the sooner they caught him the better.

"But there will be a scan Molly!" he exclaimed, ending his sentence with a pout.

She took him into her arms. "Sherlock, I'll be given a copy of the report, it's fine. Reading it will be no different then being told it."

He continued to pout.

"Would you feel better about it if I had Mary come with me?" she asked.

He didn't answer straight away. "I suppose," he mumbled and she kissed him.

Mary arrived promptly, dropping off Emily and Scott with Mrs. Hudson. The rain was still coming down steadily, and both women were very grateful for the warmth of Mycroft's car.

"How have you been feeling?" Mary asked, once they were settled in.

"So much better," Molly replied. "I am very happy I can eat again, and actually enjoy my food! I'm constantly hungry now, I can't seem to stop eating! I feel like I've gained so much weight already."

Mary grew thoughtful. "Hmmm … I'd definitely mention that to your doctor." There was a look on her face that made Molly eye her with suspicion.

"What, what is it?" she asked.

Mary adopted an innocent look. "Oh nothing, just a thought I have, that's all. I'll just have to wait and see."

Molly narrowed her eyes, making Mary bat her lashes mischevously at her, resulting in making her laugh.

The appointment didn't take very long, her doctor noted her weight gain and was glad to hear that the morning sickness had begun to abate. They ended with the scan. Molly hated this part, the feeling of the cool gel on her belly always made her shudder slightly, but when the image of her growing baby appeared on the screen, she forgot about the gel and instead felt her heart swelling with love for her unborn child.

"Aha - just as I predicted," muttered Dr. McCoy.

Molly forced herself to tear her eyes away from the screen to look at her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Dr. McCoy smiled. "Molly, you're carrying-!"

Molly's vision tunneled as she stared at the screen. The only sound she could hear was the last word that Dr. McCoy had spoken. It reverberated around in her head. She was stunned into silence, and moved in a daze. If it hadn't been for Mary she might not have been able to make it out of the building and into the waiting car.

It wasn't until Mary took both of Molly's hands in hers and gave them a tender squeeze that she snapped out of it.

"This isn't a bad thing … is it?" Mary questioned. "It's a shock, I can see that. But it's not terrible … is it?"

Molly swallowed before shaking her head. "No. It's not terrible, at least for me it isn't. I don't know what Sherlock will think, what he will say. Oh God Mary! I'm so scared!"

Mary put her arms around her and held her close. "You have every right to be afraid Molly. Any parent that has gone through the same situation has surely felt the way you are now. But I have the feeling Sherlock is going to be ecstatic! And you both have friends and family who love you dearly and will be there for both of you every step of the way."

Molly tightened her arms around her friend, murmuring a thank you as she fought back tears. They returned to Baker Street and had a cup of tea with Mrs. Hudson before Mary left to go home, neither one of them mentioning what they had learned. Later Molly returned upstairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. She laid down upon the bed and quickly fell asleep.

It was late when she woke, nearly four in the morning. A moment passed as she felt somewhat disoriented, then everything came back to her in a rush. She sat up and switched on the lamp before dropping her hand down to her belly, smoothing her palm across it.

"Wow," she murmured softly.

Suddenly a noise out in the sitting room had her on high alert. She reached for her mobile and slipped noiselessly from the bed. For a very brief moment she feared that there was an intruder, than remembered that Mycroft had surveillance on their building at all times. It must be Sherlock. Could it be that he was back already? She glanced down at her phone and saw that she had several texts from him. When she heard a sneeze she knew that it was most definitely him. Rushing from the bedroom she hurried down the hall and collided into a body, instantly being met with a very wet Belstaff.

"Sherlock?! Oh my God, you're soaked!" she exclaimed.

A single lamp was lit, allowing her to see him. He was indeed looking very much like a drowned rat.

"I walked," he said, in explanation.

"Walked from where?" she asked. "All the way from Northern Ireland?"

He snorted in dismissal. "No. From the tube station. There weren't any cabs to be had." He removed his Belstaff and stepped into the kitchen to drape it over one of the chairs. "Did your appointment go well?" he asked, not seeming to notice that he was creating a puddle at his feet.

"Yes, ver-very well," she stammered out.

He looked at her then scanned her entire body with his gaze before meeting her eyes once more. "What is it? What happened? Is something wrong with the baby? Are you alright?" He stepped forward and placed his hands on her belly.

"Sherlock, I'm fine! There's nothing wrong-" She paused to place her hands over his. "It's just-Oh my God! Sherlock your hands are like ice! Get out of those wet clothes, I'm going to run you a bath. The last thing you need is to get a cold."

He sniffed. "I'm not going to get sick."

"Please Sherlock, just do as I say."

His eyes narrowed. "You're avoiding telling me what happened at your appointment."

"No I'm not!" she declared in an adamant tone. "I just want to take care of you first. Please, let me do this? Then I'll tell you everything."

He nodded and proceeded to shrug out of his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt. Molly went into the bathroom and started to fill the tub. He was naked when he entered the room.

"Will you join me at least?" he asked, his hand moving to cup her bum.

She giggled. "Of course." She straightened and turned to face him. "Please, don't worry yourself. We're perfectly healthy, and doing fine." She place her hand over her belly.

He nodded again, the tension in his shoulders easing. He stepped into the tub and waited while she undressed, drinking in the sight of her. Her breasts were more round, her nipples already beginning to darken, and even the curve of her hips had become more pronounced. The swell of her belly never ceased to amaze him.

After helping her into the tub he lowered himself to the water before helping her down. She leaned her back against his chest, and took his hands in hers, placing them on her belly. He was already feeling warmer.

"Sherlock …" she spoke his name softly as he brushed his nose around the shell of her ear. "You know how you've been unable to deduce if I am carrying a boy or a girl?"

She could feel his chest move as he let out an annoyed huff.

"Yesssssss," he dragged out the word.

"Well ... the reason is because ... I'm carrying… I'm carrying twins."

She felt him stiffen beneath her.

"But ... it's  _never_ twins!"


	50. But ... It's Never Twins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! Chapter 50 is here! *throws confetti*
> 
> Now you may have noticed something … and maybe not. I'll just hush up and let you read on. See you down at the bottom! ENJOY! :)

* * *

"But ... it's  _never_ twins!" Sherlock scoffed.

Molly fought back a smile as she turned about to face him, careful not to jostle the water too much. "It is this time," she said, smoothing her hand across her belly. "We're going to have a boy and girl."

He buffered. For several minutes. She waited patiently, smiling gently when he started to blink and came back to her.

"Truly?" he asked, looking down as he placed his hand on top of hers on her belly. "You're carrying twins?" His eyes moved back up to meet hers. "We're going to have two babies?"

She nodded. "Yes, we are! I can show you the sonogram later."

He pulled her closer and kissed her. "Molly, you are an incredible woman."

She laughed. "I can't take all of the credit. You're part of this too you know."

"Oh I know, but it's you that has to deal with the brunt of it." He kissed her again.

When they parted she leaned against him, pressing her face into his chest. "I'm scared Sherlock," she admitted in a whisper.

He tightened his arms around her. "I-so am I. But we have each other, we can do this. And I know for certain that  _you_  can."

She sat up to look at him.

"You are an extraordinarily strong and brave woman Molly," he said to her. "I know you can do this."

She snuggled back up against him, and he buried his nose in her hair.

"I suppose this means I need to double my reading efforts," he mumbled, making her giggle.

They stayed in the bath until the water grew cold. After toweling dry they crawled naked into their bed, curling up together.

"I'm surprised you are back so soon," she said to him." I thought a serial poisoner would take a couple of days at least."

His pressed his face into the crook of her neck, and was gently placing his lips against her skin again and again, but when she spoke these words he breathed out loudly against her. "It was a false lead," he said. "Not a serial poisoner at all. Well … not of humans at least."

She leaned back to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"It was serial poisonings of animals. A disgruntled farmer, turned mad-man," he explained, ending in a grunt. "Hardly worth the trip."

"Oh … that's a shame. You haven't had any good cases recently."

He moved onto his side, tucking his arm around her. "Doesn't matter. I've got plenty to occupy myself with … even more so now." He untucked his arm to splay his hand across her stomach, looking down at it. "Two babies …" he murmured in awe.

She covered his hand with hers. "We still haven't decided on a name … and now we have to pick two."

"Mmmm …" he turned his hand, lacing their fingers together. Their eyes met as he settled his head beside hers, but just as he opened his mouth to speak she cut him off.

"No. We are not naming our son after your Uncle Rudy," she stated firmly.

Sherlock frowned slightly. "That wasn't what I was going to suggest at all!"

She smiled. "Just wanted to make sure."

He sniffed slightly. "I was thinking Rory … for the boy. After your father."

Her eyes filled with tears. She leaned her forehead against him, and he released her hand to pull her closer.

"Do you like that?" he asked.

She nodded, and sniffled before answering. "Yes, I think it's perfect."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "What about the girl?"

"Julia, after your cousin," she said after a moment had passed.

"Oh?" His eyes widened slightly.

"Yeah … do-do you mind?"

He tightened his arm around. "No. I don't mind."

"Your mother - she - she told me about her. How you, Sherrinford and Julia were inseparable when you were little." She felt him nod. "She sounded like she was wonderful, such a shame that her life ended so soon."

He pressed his face into her neck. "She was just a child, that accident should never have happened."

Molly moved her fingers through his curls. "As difficult as it is to understand, sometimes people's lives are cut short, and there's nothing we can do about it. All that we can do is remember them, love them and honour their memory."

He raised his head and kissed her gently. "How is it that you always know the right thing to say?"

She shook her head. "I don't, not at all."

He smoothed his hand down her back. "Well, you always seem to know the right thing to say to me."

She kissed him.

"What about middle names?" she asked.

"We're  _not_ giving them two," he declared, making her giggle.

"Wouldn't think of it!"

"Hamish for the boy," he deadpanned. "Most definitely,"

She snorted a laugh. "You just want that to make fun of John."

"Mmmmm … but I also rather like the name."

She laughed again, before letting out a quiet hum as he placed kisses along her jawline. "Elise for the girl," she said. "No particular reason, I've just always liked the name."

He chuckled. "Julia Elise Holmes and Rory Hamish Holmes," he said softly.

"I like the way those sound."

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "So do I."

They kissed again, and he gently rolled her onto her back. His hands moved across her skin, stroking her body. He followed his hands with his mouth, placing kisses here and there. But after covering her belly with kisses, and when he moved to settle himself between her legs, she stopped him by murmuring his name. He gave her a questioning look.

"I need you inside me," she said, slightly breathless.

His cock throbbed at her words. He moved himself over her, before cupping the side of her face in his hand and kissing her. He groaned into her mouth when he felt her grasp his cock in her hand. She gave his length a few strokes then positioned him at her entrance. He could feel the heat of her, the head of his cock just barely touching her wetness.

Their eyes met, and their gaze locked as he eased his length into her. Molly let out a blissful sigh, her hips rising up to meet his. She ran her hands down his back, not stopping until they reached the curve of his arse. She held the supple flesh in her hands, pressing him down to her. Her rounded belly met his, and he smiled. They kissed as he began to thrust.

She moaned into his mouth, raising her legs to either side of his hips, shifting his cock inside of her. "Fuck!" she whimpered.

He settled into a slow and easy rhythm, basking in her tight, wet heat. She was mewling softly, and he was murmuring her name over and over. He cupped her breast in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, before pinching her nipple which made her moan loudly. His hips stuttered at the sound. He reached back, gripping onto her thigh to raise her leg slightly higher, changing the angle he was entering her.

"Oh God!" she gasped. "That feels -ohhhh!-that feels so good!" She held tightly onto his arms, her back arching slightly, bringing her breasts closer to him. Her toes were beginning to curl.

He latched onto her rosy nipple, suckling on it hungrily. She was moaning incessantly now. He switched from breast to breast, not stopping until he felt her walls grow ever so tight around his cock. She cried out his name, throwing her head back into the pillow. He only managed several more artless thrusts, before he followed her over the precipice, whispering her name. His cock was pulsing and throbbing as he buried himself deep within her.

She held tightly onto him, wanting to keep him close to her, inside of her. He slowly rolled onto his side, cradling her body against his, while pressing kisses to her skin.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

He kissed her. "I love you too, my Molly."

They basked in their afterglow, whispering softly to each other as their hands wandered, while sharing in tender kisses. Eventually they both fell asleep, curled up side by side.

It wasn't until much later that she suddenly woke for no apparent reason, and a shockingly bright light met her eyes when she opened them.

"Oh God Sherlock!" she shrieked. "Lower the brightness on that bloody thing!" She pressed her face into her pillow, tears leaking out from her eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning his laptop away from her. "Didn't realize I had it up so high."

She risked a small peek, and was pleased to discover that it was now safe. "What on earth are you doing? It's the middle of the night!"

"Mmm … technically it's early morning."

"Sherlock…"

"I was working on a diagram for the nursery," he stated.

"What?" she said, moving to sit up.

He turned the screen back around to face her so that she could see what he had been creating.

"Oh … blast … you've completely thwarted my plans!" she wailed.

His brow furrowed. "Hmmm?"

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. "I was going to have Mycroft give you a case to take you away from Baker Street for a few days. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Sherlock closed his laptop and placed it on the bedside table, before he turned and gathered her into his arms. "And did you expect this little plan of yours to work?" he questioned, while nuzzling her ear with the tip of his nose.

She couldn't help but giggle. "No, but I wanted to at least try." She leaned back and he gave her a gentle kiss.

"I suppose it's best this way though," she noted. "So we can work on it together."

"Mmm…" He kissed her again.

She smoothed her hand across his chest. "I was going to decorate the room in a bee theme."

For that he kissed her soundly.

"Oh! I rather think you like that idea!" she said with a laugh, once they had parted.

He kissed her again. "I was considering the same thing," he told her between more kisses.

"Were you? I'm honestly not surprised."

They kissed again.

"And I was also going to have Mycroft take care of it," Sherlock told her.

Molly laughed. "You mean Anthea?"

"Yes."

They laughed together, ending it with another kiss.

"I was going to take you away for a few days while everything was being taken care of," he said. "Get out of London."

"Oh? Anywhere in particular?" she asked.

"Somewhere near the sea, I know how much you like it."

"That sounds lovely," she sighed.

He smiled. "I thought you might."

She snuggled closer to him.

"Shall we then?" he asked.

"Yes please!"

He kissed her once more.

"How about the twenty-first of December to the twenty-eighth?" he asked between several more kisses.

Molly leaned away from him, her brow furrowing. "Why those particular dates?"

He attempted an expression of nonchalance. "No reason."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't want to have to spend Christmas with your parents, do you?"

His expression fell. "No. I don't. And you'll know they'll ask."

She chuckled softly. "Well … since this will be our last Christmas before we are joined by our new additions … it would be rather nice to spend it just with you."

He kissed her again, rather soundly.

"What do you think of Sussex Downs?" he asked once they parted.

"In December? It will be freezing!"

He shrugged. "What of it? I intend on keeping you in bed, where it will be very,  _very_ warm."

She laughed, it quickly turning into a moan when he slipped his hand between her legs and he began to stroke her. They made love slowly, dragging out each other's pleasure. Once they were both sated they took a quick shower, changed the sheets and buried beneath the covers. Molly fell asleep quickly, but Sherlock laid awake for a bit longer, continuing to work on his laptop, this time with the brightness lowered.

* * *

The rest of November passed in a blur, as did the majority of December. The Watson's came over for a pre-Christmas celebration a few days before Molly and Sherlock were to leave for their holiday. Little Scott was a healthy, bouncing baby boy, and Emily was a truly doting bigger sister. Molly's heart nearly ached at the sight, and made her long for the day when she would see her own two little babies interacting with each other. She had been doing quite a bit of reading about twins and their behaviours and was finding it fascinating, as was Sherlock.

"You better make sure you pack plenty of warm clothes," Mary said, breaking Molly out of her reverie.

She blinked then turned to look at her friend. "Oh, don't worry, I will … and uhh … I'm not really sure how much time we'll be spending outside." She blushed as she finished her sentence.

Mary smiled knowingly. "Ahh, so it's going to be that sort of holiday eh? A babymoon?"

Molly giggled. "I suppose so."

Mary leaned forward and placed her hand on Molly's arm. "Appreciate and enjoy each other while you still can, when it's still just the two of you. A lot does change once a baby is added to the mix, and you'll not be having just one baby, but two, three if you count Sherlock."

Molly let out a soft snort, but nodded in agreement. "We plan to enjoy ourselves," she said, with an impish smirk.

Mary laughed loudly, causing both John and Sherlock to look at them.

"What are you two discussing?" John questioned, which resulted in only making the two women laugh.

"Better off leaving it John … ignorance  _is_  bliss," Sherlock stated, knowing all too well by the flush of Molly's cheeks that it would be best if John didn't continue to pry.

Later that evening, once the Watsons and their "offspring" (as Sherlock liked to refer to them) had left, the two of them curled up together on the sofa, the fire faintly glowing.

"What a difference a year makes," Molly murmured suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Oh, I was just thinking back to around this time last year," she explained. "Mary was pregnant, not me."

"Ahhh …" He brushed his nose along the shell of her ear. "Just think of how different next year will be." He could just make out her smile in the dying light of the fire.

"Yeah, what a Christmas that will be, with our babies," she said.

Sherlock tucked her closer against his body.

"Don't think though," she noted, "that you'll get out of spending it with your parents."

"Mmm, no, suppose not."

She chuckled. "Our son and daughter are going to be very spoiled by them, aren't they?"

"Yes."

They both grew silent, the only sound a faint crack from the fire.

"It's late Molly," Sherlock noted. "You should get to bed, you need your rest."

"Mmmm … I am rather tired."

He helped her stand, then led her to their bedroom. She quickly changed into her pyjamas, and after brushing her teeth and washing her face she crawled into their bed. A happy sigh escaped her as she burrowed beneath the blankets, one arm tucked around her belly. Sherlock watched her for a moment, a small smile on his lips, before he too got ready for bed.

She was fast asleep by the time he slipped beneath the covers. When he curled himself around her she let out a small noise, but didn't waken. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and not for the first time wondered how he had managed to become so incredibly lucky.

The next few days went by quickly. Sherlock had managed to pack all that he needed in one small suitcase, while Molly had somehow managed to pack a large one, with another smaller bag for "essentials" as she called them.

"Molly, how can you possibly need  _all_  of this," he paused to gesture at the suitcase before continuing, "when we're only going to be away for eight days?"

"It's winter Sherlock! And we're going to be by the sea! It will be cold," she explained.

He gave a sniff of disdain. "I think I'll be doing a rather good job at keeping you warm."

She laughed. "We're not spending our entire holiday in bed Sherlock, we'll need to get some fresh air at some point."

He pouted. "Must we? Fresh air is so … boring. Being in bed with you is far less boring."

She rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "I'm a pregnant woman Sherlock! I need to get up and move about, I can't just lie in bed and shag all day."

"Why not? It's perfectly good exercise."

She grabbed the nearby pillow and tossed it at his head. He caught it though before it reached its target.

"Are you certain you have everything you need?" she asked him, attempting to change the topic.

"Yes. Are you? I think you practically took your entire wardrobe," he quipped.

She threw another pillow at him, this time it hit its target because he had become distracted by his phone.

"AHH!" he exclaimed, making her burst into giggles.

He glared at her while he pocketed his phone. "You'll pay for that,  _later,_ the car is here."

"Oh! Perfect timing, I just finished packing," she said.

It was Sherlock's turn to roll his eyes, certain that he would never understand women and their need for bringing every item of clothing they owned whenever they went on holiday. As he zipped up her suitcase and stood it on its wheels he had a brief flashback to what she had brought on their honeymoon. He shook his head, then smirked when he also remembered that she had barely worn any of the clothes she had brought with her. He intended for this holiday to go exactly the same way.

"Ready?" he asked her, when she came out of the bathroom.

She nodded. "Yes. Just don't be surprised if we have to stop twenty times on the way there, my bladder can't seem to hold a single drop anymore!"

Molly's words ended up holding true. What was supposed to take nearly two hours, turned into nearly three, due to the frequent stops they needed to make.

"We should have just taken a helicopter," Sherlock stated, very nearly grousing. "Would have been so much quicker."

"Yes, but remember the reason why we didn't? No bathrooms!"

He huffed a breath. "Fine, a plane then!"

She laughed. "Oh stop it you, there's no use complaining anymore, we're here!"

He looked out the window. "Oh, so we are."

They got out of the car.

"Ahhh, feels wonderful to be back on my feet!" she said. "Definitely need to walk about for a bit." She rubbed at her lower back as she looked at the cottage. "Gosh Sherlock, this place is really lovely."

"You all right, no pain?" he questioned.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Just a tiny bit achy from sitting for so long. Do. Not. Worry." She gave his hand a squeeze, before turning to look at the cottage. "How did you find this place? It's amazing! All of this, just for the two of us?"

Sherlock followed her gaze. "Yes well, it does actually sleep six …"

"Six? Bloody hell … what do we need all the space for?"

He shrugged. "A different location for each shag?"

She rolled her eyes and started to move up the path to the front door. "Just like on our honeymoon …" she muttered beneath her breath.

"What's that?" he called out, taking their luggage from the driver.

She stopped and waited at the door, not answering him until he joined her.

"I said, just like on our honeymoon."

"Oh?"

She smirked cheekily. "You were determined that we make love in every room in the villa," she explained.

He smiled widely. "And we succeeded, didn't we?"

She laughed. "Yes, we did."

He unlocked the door and she followed him inside.

"Wow," Molly breathed out as she looked around her. "This really is beautiful. How did you find this place?"

Sherlock nodded his head from side to side. "I have my ways and means."

She gave a small humph.

"Bedroom is upstairs," he said. "Wait for me here, I'll bring the luggage up, then come back for you."

She gave him a look. "I'm perfectly capable of going up the stairs on my own. I do it every day at Baker Street."

"I know. But I prefer to be at your side, just in case." He spoke with a such a concerned expression that she felt her confidence waning.

"All right, fine. I'll wait for you. My knight in shining armour."

He grimaced slightly, his nose crinkling, which made her giggle. She took off her coat and scarf while he brought their luggage up, knowing she wouldn't be able to remove her boots until Sherlock returned. How she hated not being able to see nor have access to her feet. A few minutes later he returned and they made their way upstairs.

"Wow! That has to be the largest bed I have ever seen!" she exclaimed.

"All the better for me to make love to you in," he rumbled out, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

"Is sex all you ever think of?" she asked.

"Absolutely not. There's loads of other things. Loads!"

She laughed loudly before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Help me off with these?" she asked, holding up her foot and wiggling it.

Sherlock kneeled down in front of her and undid the laces on her boots before slipping them off. "Want the socks off too?"

"Yes please!"

He removed the socks, placing a kiss on the top of each foot before he stood. He kissed her before helping her to stand.

"Shall I start a fire?" he asked.

"Oh! Sure! That'd be nice."

He moved over to the fireplace and kneeled down in front of it. Molly moved about the room, looking it over, opening and closing drawers, not stopping until she came to the oversized wardrobe. He had just finished stacking a few logs and was holding a match beneath the starter, waiting for it to light, when suddenly she let out a noise of dismay.

"Oh God Sherlock, I'm as big as a house!" she wailed.

The starter lit and he tossed the match on top of the logs. He turned about and straightened, looking at Molly who was stood in front of the wardrobe that had a long mirror attached to it. She was viewing herself with a rather affronted expression.

For a very,  _very_  brief moment he considered pointing out the fact that her choice of phrase was entirely impossible, but then he realized that this would only make matters worse. How proud John would have been of him to witness him learning to hold his tongue!

"How could you possibly want to make love to this?" she asked, tightening her loose shirt across her belly so that it became more prominent. "I look like I swallowed a watermelon!" Her tone was so despondent that it made his heart ache.

"Molly, my Molly," he murmured softly as he stepped up behind her. "You are carrying two lives inside of your body, you are nurturing them and keeping them warm and safe." He ran his hands across her belly before slipping his arms around her and cradling her as close as he could manage. "I never understood why anyone would tell a pregnant woman that they were 'glowing', I always thought it was just some silly attempt at placating … but now I do understand, because it's true. You are positively radiant." He turned her to face him and kissed her, and he was pleased when he felt her kiss him back. "Lie down upon the bed," he gently instructed. "I think it's time that I give your body the attention it deserves." He kissed her again, a thrill coursing through his veins when he heard her moan at the the thought of what he was about to do.

He nudged her towards towards the bed, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and off her. She reached back and undid the clasp of her bra, her breasts dropping heavily once she pulled the cups away. He tugged off her loose trousers, letting them fall into a heap at her feet, and when the backs of her legs bumped against the mattress he helped her to move onto it and stretch out, laying against the pillows. He kissed her once more, his hands traveling upwards until they reached her breasts, each filling his hand.

"God Molly-," he groaned, "your breasts, I loved them before … but now..."

He gave them each a tender squeeze before he dropped his mouth to one. She threw her head back into the pillow and moaned loudly when he circled her areola with his tongue before taking her hardened, swollen nipple between his lips.

"Oh fuck Sherlock, you're going to make me come by just doing that!" she whimpered, burying her hands in his hair.

He switched breasts, giving it the same attention, her entire body quivering. He continued to switch back and forth until she was a whimpering mess, her breasts aching pleasantly from his attention.

"It's fascinating how much your breasts have changed," he said softly. "The skin around to your nipples has darkened, and they've become more prominent. Your body is preparing itself to feed our children Molly, it is a beautiful thing." He gave each nipple another tender kiss.

His mouth continued to travel downwards, placing tender kisses across her rounded belly, his nose gently nuzzling at her distended belly button.

"I am in complete awe at the two lives you are carrying inside of you …" he murmured to her, between continuing to places kisses across her belly. "You are incredible, my Molly …"

After shifting more firmly onto his knees, he nudged her legs a bit further apart and was instantly met with the heady scent of her arousal. Oh, she was  _wet_ , her knickers were practically drenched. He slipped his thumbs beneath the fabric and tugged them off, slipping them down her legs. She made a soft noise, but continued to lie still, her legs now spread a bit more.

He drank in the sight of her. Her labia had darkened as well, a fact that he was intrigued to discover sent an ache straight through to his cock. Ever so tenderly he massaged her folds with his fingertips, gathering her moisture before he spread them further apart. She whimpered softly, moaning his name, and he could feel that his cock was already weeping pre-cum. Her clit was begging to be taken into his mouth.

"Please Sherlock … oh please!" she moaned.

He glanced up at her, fighting back a smile when he saw that her eyes were tightly squeezed shut and that she was fisting the sheets in anticipation of what he was about to do.

" _Please!_ "

His cock throbbed at the sound of her whimper. He slowly lowered his mouth to her, certain that she would come the moment that his tongue touched her clit.

"AHHH! Yes! Oh Sherlock! Oh!" she cried.

Her legs trembled, her back arching slightly as he sucked and licked at the tender bud. He held onto her hips, keeping her against the mattress so that he could work his mouth on her with ease. The moment he gently slid a single finger into her core she was done for.

She cried out his name, her walls clamping down on his finger. He tenderly suckled her clit, but when she gave his head a gentle push he sat up. She watched him, breathing heavily, while he sucked his finger clean before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at her for a moment, his cock practically pulsing, aching to be buried deep within her. Clearly she had the same desires.

"Please Sherlock … I need you to be inside of me!" she whispered breathlessly.

He smiled and leaned forward to give her a brief kiss, before he slipped off of the bed to undress. His cock was throbbing now. He removed his clothes in record time, flinging them to who knows where in the room. As soon as he was naked he climbed back onto the bed and settled himself between her spread legs. He gave her another kiss before he settled her thighs against his hips. His cock came to rest directly against her wet sex and they both moaned. She rolled her hips, helping the tip of him to slip inside of her.

"Fuck," he growled out.

He entered her fully, and held himself still. The sensation for her was almost overwhelming, she felt hyperaware of every single bit of him inside of her. She knew that she was not going to last long. He gave a shallow thrust and she moaned loudly. Tilting forward, he placed his hands on either side of her and settled into a slow and steady rhythm of deep thrusts.

"Mmmm … that feels … oh fuck Sherlock, your cock feels incredible," she murmured to him.

"Molly, keep talking like that and I'll be coming within a minute!" he grumbled.

She giggled, smoothing her hands down his arms. "I'm not going to last long either."

He brought up his hand and took her taut nipple between his fingers, his stomach brushing against her belly with every thrust. She moaned, feeling the beginning sensations of her orgasm. He switched to her other nipple, hissing out a curse when she reached up to massage the breast he had just been lavishing with attention. He thrust in deep, making sure to not stop until his balls pressed against the globes of her arse.

"That's it," she encouraged. "Give me all of your cock."

"Fuck … Molly!" he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sherlock … look at me."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, their gaze meeting.

"I want to see you when you come," she whispered.

He groaned again before briefly kissing her. When he felt the tightening in his lower back, and his cock begin to pulse, he leaned back slightly, angling his hips so that he entered her just as she liked it.

"Mmmm … I'm starting to come Sherlock, oh God … I'm … ohhhh!"

Their eyes locked, and they watched each other come undone. A great shudder coursed through her, a wild cry escaping from between her lips as her walls convulsed around his cock. With one final thrust, he pressed his hips to hers, groaning. She was whimpering his name over and over, her entire body shaking from the force of her orgasm. He slipped out and collapsed down beside her, breathing raggedly.

She couldn't help but giggle, rather enjoying the sight of his flushed face and mussed up  _sex-hair_. He looked at her, and after he took in a few more deep breaths he moved closer to her so that he could take her face in his hands and kiss her deeply.

Once they parted she brushed the tip of her nose against his and said softly, "Thank you, I feel beautiful, loved and deliciously shagged."

He kissed her again.

They lay quietly in the afterglow of their lovemaking, until Sherlock got up to add more wood to the fire. It was providing the only light in the room, casting strange and dancing shadows along the walls.

"What do you think they are going to be like?" Molly asked suddenly.

"Hmmm?" he questioned, rather busy nuzzling at the spot where her neck and ear met.

"Our children," she explained.

He leaned back. "Ahhh…" He returned to his nuzzling. "Hopefully more like you, than me," he mumbled.

She laughed softly. "You do have some good qualities, you know."

"Do I? The last time I checked I couldn't find any."

She reached up and gave his curls a slight tug. "Hush it, you!" She turned her head and gave his lips a quick kiss. "You have far more than you realize."

He adopted an expression of shock before saying, "Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you git."

"Do you possibly have an itemized list? I love those."

"Oh do shut up!" she grumbled.

"Make me."

"I intend to."

They kissed for a time, their legs entwined, his hand smoothing across her belly.

"You're tired," he noted.

"Mmm … absolutely exhausted," she agreed. "Not sure why the drive up here wore me out so much."

"Wellllll … it might not have been just the drive."

"Oh yeah, the shagging probably is mostly to blame." She ended her sentence with a smile. "Help me up, so I can go to the loo?"

Upon returning to the bed a few minutes later, Sherlock tucked the blankets around them both, cocooning them. She pressed herself against him, brushing her nose against his chest.

"Why do you always smell so good?" she questioned.

"I shower," he deadpanned.

She bit down on his nipple.

"OUCH!" he exclaimed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she said. "I'm not commenting on the soap you use, it's just you … your smell, your … manly smell. I love it." She breathed in before letting it out slowly.

He moved his hand up her back. "I've always liked the way you smelled too. Essence of Molly. If it could be bottled somehow … I would do it. Although … it wouldn't really be possible to replicate the real thing." He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep, making her laugh.

She leaned her head back and he kissed her. She hummed against his lips, returning the kiss eagerly. Once they parted she laid her head back down on his chest, lightly tracing her fingertips across his skin.

"Two babies, Sherlock. We're going to have  _two_ ," she murmured to him.

He shifted slightly, tucking his arm more firmly around her. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart.

"I'm so scared," she whispered. "I really am. And not  _just o_ f the birth, but everything that follows it. What if there's complications and I can't get up for feedings or-or to hold them and carry them in my arms? What if I end up having postpartum PTSD? What if it's just all too overwhelming and neither one of us can take it? You highly value your quiet Sherlock, I know you do, and now there will be two babies crying at all hours, dependent solely on us and what if we-"

"Shhhh…" He tightened his arms around her, smoothing his hand up and down her back.

She took in a great hiccuping breath, pressing her face into his chest. "I don't know if I can do this Sherlock … I really don't know if I can."

"Molly … Molly look at me."

She slowly raised her head, revealing the tear tracks that lined her cheeks. He reached up, cupping the side 0f her face in his hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"You can do this," he stated firmly. "I know you can. And you won't be alone in this, I will be alongside you every step of the way. But if you really are that concerned, I can always ask Mummy to stay with us. At least for a few days."

Molly sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "You'd really do that? I know how she tends to get on your nerves."

"Yes, I would," he replied. "I want you to be comfortable and at ease. I'll happily swallow my pride and ask for help, if it means that it will make you feel better."

Her eyes started to well up with more tears. "Oh God Sherlock, I love you so much!" She kissed him, and he kissed her back, holding her close.

The following morning Molly was stood in the kitchen, facing the window, her half-drunk cup of tea on the table before her. She absentmindedly brushed her hand over her stomach, stroking it through the fabric of her dressing gown, while she continued to stare out the window into the early morning fog.

A quiet yawn behind her broke her from her reverie. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Sherlock had the sheet wrapped around him, his eyes were only half-open, and his hair was in complete disarray.

"Morning," she murmured to him.

He let out a grunt and stumbled towards her, pressing himself up against the back of her. He gave a satisfied hum, tucking his face into the curve of her neck while he slipped his arms and the sheet around her, placing his hands flat against her rounded belly.

"Not quite awake?" she questioned.

"No," he grumbled.

She laughed softly, reaching back to run her fingers through his curls. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling ever so slightly at her skin.

"Slept well?" he asked between nibbles.

"Mmm … very well. Don't think I even dreamed, at least not that I can remember."

He gave a hum of acknowledgement, slowly moving his hand upward so that he could slip it beneath the fabric of her dressing gown, cupping her breast.

"Ohhh …"

She could feel him smile against her skin. He gently pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She made another soft noise when he dropped his hand away, only to replace it with his other one, so that he could give her other breast the same attention.

"I thought you weren't quite awake?" she asked, before rolling her bum up against his half-hard length.

He hissed out a breath before he undid the knot of her dressing gown in one swift move. After bringing his hands to her shoulders, he slipped the fabric from her body, it falling to a heap onto the floor, his sheet joining it.

The softest of whimpers escaped her when they at last became skin to skin. She could feel his now fully-hard cock pressed against her bum. She wanted nothing more than to have him deep inside of her, filling her up.

"Lean forward," he instructed, his voice slightly deeper, a bit hoarse. "Place your hands on the table. I want anyone who happens to walk by to see that you are being fucked and that you're enjoying it."

Molly moaned at his words, even though she knew that it was highly unlikely that anyone would be walking by, the thought of it did somewhat turn her on. She did as he asked, spreading her legs open a bit more as she bent forward, her breasts swaying slightly from her movements.

Sherlock placed kisses down the side of her neck and across her shoulder before he reached down between them and took his cock into his hand. He was so hard he was practically throbbing. He nudged the head against her wet heat, gathering up her moisture, coating his length in it. He teased at her clit, watching as her fingers tightened as she tried to grab onto the table.

Not being able to take it any longer, he placed the head at her entrance and in one smooth stroke he entered her, his chest pressed to her back. She gasped, throwing her head against his shoulder. He mouthed at her neck as he slowly began to thrust, holding onto her to help keep her steady. Her breasts bounced with each thrust of his hips. Raising her arm above her head she reached back and held onto him. Sherlock groaned and quickened his pace, bringing his hands up to her breasts, massaging them with his fingers. She was now holding tightly to the edge of the table with one hand, her knuckles turning white, moaning each time that he entered her. When she started to whimper his name he knew that she was close.

Releasing her breasts he placed his palms flat against her stomach, holding her firmly against him so that he could thrust into her in a deep and steady rhythm.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she chanted in time with his movements, and he watched as her breasts bounced and swayed.

Suddenly he felt her blunt fingernails dig into his shoulder. She threw her head back once more, exposing her throat to him while she cried out his name. He pressed kisses to her skin, before letting out a low groan as his balls tightened and his cock pulsed and twitched. He gave one last thrust, burying himself deep within her.

"MOLLY!" he gasped before pressing his face into the curve of her neck. He held her close to him, cradling her body in his arms. She whimpered as his softening cock slipped from her body. She turned her head so that their lips could meet. They shared a tender kiss while he stroked her belly with his fingers.

"I think I need to take you back to bed," he murmured.

"Mmmm… shower first."

He hummed in agreement and led her towards the bathroom.

The rest of their holiday was spent in very much the same manner. Sherlock stayed true to his word, endeavouring to shag her in every room (he succeeded), and Molly managed to convince him to go on walks along the sea shore, but not until he was certain she was bundled up enough. The air was rather bitterly cold, biting at her cheeks and nose and turning them bright red, but Sherlock just used this as an excuse to take her back to bed, in order to "warm her up". She certainly wasn't complaining.

By the end of their stay they were both rather blissfully shagged out. Sherlock had also heard from Mycroft that the nursery was completed, and awaiting their examination. Molly was, to say the least, rather excited. They had both put their heads together and picked out what they each wanted, Sherlock very willingly going along with the bee theme, even if he was rather dismayed at the inaccuracies of the Apis. Unknown to him though, Molly had managed to find a very old print of an anatomical drawing of a bee. She was certain he was going to love it.

As soon as they arrived at Baker Street the first thing that they did was to go see the finished nursery.

"Oh my God … Sherlock … this … this is perfect!" she said softly, tears coming to her eyes.

He only nodded in reply, looking about him in awe. John's old room had been entirely transformed. The walls were painted a warm yellow, there were two cots (identical to the one that was in their bedroom), as well as a wardrobe and a rocking chair. There were bee elements peppered throughout the room, and in spite of their lack of accuracy Sherlock couldn't help but feel rather pleased by the sight. That is until he noticed the print on the wall. He stared at it in surprise.

Molly walked up to him, hooking her arm around his and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Do you like it?" she asked.

He nodded, making a soft, "Mmm."

"You're shocked that I managed to surprise you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes, actually. I am."

She chuckled. "Good. I'm glad that I know I am capable of doing that."

"Oh Molly." He turned to face her. "You have know idea what you are capable of doing to me."

"Oh … really?" She raised an eyebrow in a cheeky manner, rubbing her hand down his arm.

"You-you're not tired from the drive?" he questioned, knowing exactly what the look she was giving him was implying.

She shook her head, rather enjoying the fact that she made him stammer. "No. Not at all. I think I need to do some finding out … of what I'm capable of doing to you."

He swallowed thickly, making a mental note to do further research of hormones and sex drives in pregnant women.

"We can thank Mycroft …  _later_ ," she said, before grabbing Sherlock's hand and leading him out of the room.

* * *

It was now nearing the end of January, and Sherlock and Molly were currently having a full-force row. One that had been going on for some time.

"I am  _not_  starting my maternity leave yet Sherlock!" she exclaimed. "It's absolutely ridiculous. I am nowhere near my due date, I am perfectly capable of continuing to work!"

He let out a massive huff, looking more like a petulant child than a grown-man.

"Honestly, you're being ridiculous!" she said to him. "I already stopped doing autopsies, and I only work in the lab when there's nothing  _dangerous_ about. I'm spending most of my time instructing interns, why is that so terrible?"

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, realising he had nothing to counter-argue with, which only resulted in making him more annoyed.

"Dr. McCoy is perfectly fine with the schedule I am currently keeping. I'm working less hours, I'm sitting when I need to, and I've been taking the lift. When, and only when he deems it necessary that I stop … then I'll stop."

Sherlock's shoulders sagged. "You really are very stubborn," he muttered.

She laughed softly. "No where near as stubborn as you."

"Humph."

It wasn't until nearly a month later that things went a bit down hill. It all started off with a text.

 _Sherlock, you need to come to Bart's, NOW._ \- Mx

His mind started racing the moment he read the message. His fingers fumbled, he was unable to type, so instead he opted to call her, desperate to hear her voice.

" _Molly?! What's wrong? What's happened?"_  he rushed out. " _I'm on my way!"_

"I'm- I'm fine Sherlock, it's just that I've … I've been admitted," she explained to him.

" _WHAT? WHY?"_

"Sherlock, please don't shout! I just-I started having contractions … far too early … everything is fine though, they've stopped, please just come as soon as you can and I'll explain further. I really don't want to discuss this over the phone."

She could hear him slowly let out a breath.

" _I'll be there in ten minutes,"_ he said. " _Five if Mycroft can do something about the traffic."_

In spite of how worried she was feeling she couldn't help but laugh. "Please don't do anything rash."

" _I'm Sherlock Holmes, everything I do is rash_."

"Well … I'm certainly glad to hear that your sarcasm hasn't abated."

" _I wouldn't want to disappoint you."_ His tone softened as he said, " _But tell me Molly, truthfully, are you okay? Are the babies okay?"_

She felt her heart clench at the concern in his voice. "All three of us are fine Sherlock. Perfectly fine. I just need you here."

" _I'll be there soon, very soon."_

And he was, far sooner than she expected, and she could only presume that somehow Mycroft had indeed managed to do something about the traffic. Sherlock rushed into her room, his eyes widened in fright, his curls in complete disarray from him having run his fingers through them multiple times on his way there. He hurried over to her, took her face in his hands and gave her a brief but deep kiss as he sat down on the bed.

"You're okay?" he asked.

"Yes. They want to keep me overnight for observation, but I'll be able to go home tomorrow. And … Dr. McCoy has decided that it's best I start my maternity leave now. He explained that due to carrying two babies it is common to go into premature labour, and that it would be best for me to stay at home, and be on semi-bedrest."

"Oh." Sherlock dropped his hand, placing one on her belly, and leaned back slightly.

"Stop looking so smug," she said to him.

"I would, but then I would just look worried."

"Come here," she said softly.

He leaned closer and she kissed him.

"Everything is going to be all right," she said reassuringly.

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?" he questioned.

She kissed him again.

It took Molly a little bit of a while to become accustomed to not working and stay at home all day. For the first few days Sherlock refused to leave the flat, far too concerned about her, and not wanting to leave her alone. But by the fourth day Molly announced that he was going to drive her positively batty.

"Take a case Sherlock!" she all but yelled. "I know that your inbox must surely be bursting, or perhaps Greg has something for you. If you stay here with me for one more hour, I may strangle you and make it look like an accident."

His eyes widened, not for one moment doubting what she said. Her pregnancy hormones had been out in full force for some time now.

"I will be perfectly all right," she said to him, her tone softening. "I'm quite comfortable here on the sofa. I've got my laptop, the telly remote, a few books and some  _healthy_  snacks, and plenty of water." She quickly added, "And Dr. McCoy assured us both that my getting up and walking to and from the loo is perfectly safe." She ended her sentence with a pointed look, reminding him that he had indeed wanted to carry her whenever she needed to use the toilet.

"Yes well … ahh …" he stammered over his words, something he seemed to be growing a habit of doing. His brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Sherlock … come here."

He stepped towards her and sat down upon the sofa, his hip pressing into hers.

She placed her hand on top of his. "I know you're worried. I'm worried too. This is a frightening experience for both of us, but we'll get through it. You need a distraction Sherlock, you can't stay holed up in here all the time with me, you need to have a run about London, taking down the bad guys."

He sniffed dismissively.

"You're going to drive yourself mad," she continued. "You're going to drive us both mad!" She reached up and gave his curls a slight tug, making him look at her. "I'll be alright for a few hours. Mrs. Hudson is down stairs, and I won't get up unnecessarily. Go out and have a bit of fun, then you can come back and tell me all about it. Okay?"

"Okay."

He kissed her, cradling her face in his hands.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"Love you too."

Molly spent the majority of her blessed time alone napping. It was so blissfully quiet in the flat, and when she had tried to read her eyes kept drooping so she just let it happen and managed to sleep for several hours without waking. This was quite a feat due to the fact that she more often than not would wake either needing to pee or from one of the babies kicking.

When she woke she realized that the sun was nearly setting and that Sherlock had yet to return. She checked her phone for messages and was pleased to find that there weren't any, she could only hope that this meant that he had found a good case to occupy himself with.

After a trip to the bathroom she settled back down onto the sofa and tucked into one of her  _healthy_ snacks. Oh how she missed her crisps! She powered up her laptop and began to peruse her emails, before opening up a few of her old Word documents.

"Hmmm … I completely forgot about this!" she muttered to herself as she read over an old paper she had started ages ago.

The sound of the front door opening and closing, and footsteps on the stairs, caught her attention. She looked up from her laptop just as Sherlock entered the flat. He looked exuberant, which could only mean one thing: the case was a 9 and he had solved it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he strode over to her.

"Perfectly fine," she answered before she offered her mouth for a kiss, which he gladly gave. "I slept most of the day away."

"Oh? That's good! You've been needing more sleep."

"Mmm."

He straightened and removed his Belstaff and scarf, tossing them onto his chair before he sat down beside her and kissed her once more.

"Mmmm… somebody had a  _very_  good case!"

He kissed her again before saying, "Yes. I did!"

"Tell me about it?"

"Oh, I intend to, but first, dinner." He checked his watch. "I sent Wiggins to Angelo's, he should be on his way back."

"Did you order me my favourite?" she asked.

"Of course I did!"

"Thank you." This time she kissed him.

The doorbell rang just as she was about to say something.

"That will be Wiggins." Sherlock popped up from the sofa and hurried down the stairs.

Molly powered down her laptop, easing herself to the edge of the sofa. By the time she had got to her feet Sherlock had reentered the flat, carrying a bag of food that smelled positively delicious.

"Eat in the kitchen?" he asked, and she nodded.

They sat down at the table and began to eat.

"Before you start telling me about your case, I want to say something first," she said to him, twirling pasta around her fork.

Sherlock looked at her expectantly.

"I came across one of my old papers, she explained. "It's an unfinished one, and I thought to myself, this is a perfect way for me to keep occupied! There's a still a bit of research I need to do for it, so I wondered if maybe you'd like to help me finish it?"

His answer was a kiss.

A week later Molly had set up a makeshift office upon their bed. She had tried the sofa at first but found that that became uncomfortable after while. She was at this very moment sat upon their bed, propped up by multiple pillows. Her laptop was at her side, a stack of papers and magazines were on the other. She was using her eight-month belly as a form of desk, highlighting and making notes on the paper she held in her hand.

"We're going to have to move," Sherlock suddenly announced as he entered the room, staring blankly ahead of him.

She tore her eyes away from the medical journal she had just picked up. "What? What do you mean?" she asked.

He stepped further into the room, but still didn't look at her. "We need a bigger space. Baker Street isn't possibly large enough to accommodate our growing family." He waved his hands about wildly as he began to pace.

"Sherlock." She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he continued to star blankly ahead. " _Sherlock_!"

He jumped slightly before at last turning to look at her. She reached her hand out to him. He climbed onto the bed and slid over to her, and once he was beside her she cupped his face into her hands.

"Sherlock, our babies haven't even been born yet. Let us just take this one step at a time. Yes, it is very possible that eventually we will need more space, but for the time being the nursery that we have is perfect."

He slowly let out a breath before nodding his head. She gave him a gentle kiss and said quietly, "I can't exactly fathom moving out of here. This has become … home to me. I can't really picture living anywhere else."

Sherlock slipped his arm over her belly before he leaned forward and nuzzled at her jaw line. "I know … it would be …  _odd_."

"Mmmm … who would Sherlock Holmes be without Baker Street?" she questioned.

His nose scrunched in disdain. "The house does not maketh the man," he murmured.

"No. But everyone associates Baker Street with you."

He breathed out against her skin. "They will just have to learn to associate me with somewhere else. Sussex Downs, perhaps."

"Sussex Downs? Are you running a temperature?" She turned her head to look at him.

"No," he answered.

"What on earth would you do in Sussex Downs? You'd go mad with boredom!"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I was thinking that I'd keep bees."

She blinked at him. "Are you considering early retirement?"

He shrugged again, settling his hand onto her hip. "Everything is different now, Molly." He placed his hand onto her belly and began to move it in soothing circles. He smiled when he felt one of the babies kick. "Our lives are about to drastically change. Not just in one way, but in two," he noted.

She put her hand on his arm. "What are you saying Sherlock?"

He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm saying that I think I should stop associating myself with the criminal classes."

She moved her hands to his shirt front, fiddling with the buttons. "I haven't asked you to do this."

"I know. I know you haven't. I've made this decision myself."

She smoothed her fingers over his shirt. "What brought all this about?"

"You. And our unborn children. I want them and I want you to live in a safe environment. I don't want to have to worry about someone trying to hurt the ones I love just because I got in their way, and put an end to their dastardly plan."

She leaned forward, pressing her face into his shirt. "But Sherlock, you've done so much for this country, you've saved so many lives, have helped so many people. Are you really willing to just … put an end to all that? Will Mycroft even allow it?"

Sherlock let out a snort of derision. "My brother is the biggest sentimental git you will ever meet."

"Sherlock!"

"No. I won't take it back, it's true. He will allow me to do whatever I choose, especially if I explain to him my reasonings. And besides, he doesn't control me. Not in the slightest."

It was Molly's turn to let out a snort. "He sort of does Sherlock."

For that she received a none-too-tender nip to the neck, which only resulted in making her shriek with laughter.

"How about-" she said, once her laughter had abated. "How about we wait until after our babies are born, give or take a few months, a year even, and we'll see how you feel?" she said to him, leaning back so that their eyes could meet.

He sighed. "You're worried that I'll grow bored, aren't you? That I'll be unhappy? That I will come to resent you and the twins? That's it, isn't it? That's your greatest fear?"

She nodded, dropping her gaze.

"Oh Molly, and here I thought you knew me better than anyone else. Better than I knew myself!"

Her eyes flew up to meet his, her heart was fluttering, but she was instantly put at ease when she saw that he was smiling.

"Don't you know?" he questioned, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. "Don't you know that you are enough? That you make me so inexplicably happy?"

She kissed him, and he deepened the kiss, cradling the back of her head in his hand.

"That and of course the never-ending supply of body parts you bring home," he said when their kiss ended. "OW!" He pulled back from her, rubbing the top of his head where she had given his curls a tug.

"Body parts, huh?" she asked, smirking slightly.

"Yes," he said with a leer. "Very particular body parts!" He smoothed his hand down her stomach, not stopping until he cupped the space between her legs.

"You're a tit," she said to him.

"Ohhh … those are one of the particular ones!"

She rolled her eyes but allowed him to kiss her. After a rather vigorous snog, they both parted for breath a few minutes later. Sherlock laid his head onto her belly, murmuring scientific equations to their babies.

"So Sussex Downs huh?" she questioned suddenly.

"Mmm…" he replied, brushing his nose against her belly.

"You wouldn't happen to be thinking of any place in particular would you?"

He stopped what he was doing and peered up at her. "Possibly."

She smiled. "It's that cottage we stayed at for Christmas, isn't it?"

"Welll…"

"Don't deny it."

He huffed out a breath. "Yes."

She giggled.

"It's in the perfect spot, remote, yet close to the sea, but not too close as to be considered dangerous for our children. There's plenty of room for bee hives, and also plenty of room for if we extend our family beyond the two."

Molly smiled. "Oh? You want more already, when our twins haven't even been born yet?"

"Well, I was thinking six or seven."

"Six or seven?" she exclaimed. "You mad man!"

He sighed. "Yes, I have been called that before."

She laughed. "Come here you silly."

He moved up her body, placing his hands on either side of her.

"I love you," she whispered before she kissed him.

He kissed her back, then pulled away for a moment in order to ask, "Does this mean you agree to having five more?"

"SHERLOCK!"

* * *

It was down to the final stretch now and Molly was counting the days. She could barely move without some part of her body aching, she slept terribly and her back was constantly feeling so sore that she repeatedly had to use a heating pad. Sherlock tried his best to keep her comfortable, but for the most part it was beyond his ability.

His parents were staying in London, not wanting to risk missing the birth of their first grandchildren. Mycroft had already been coerced several times into going to shows with them, due to the fact that Sherlock couldn't possibly leave his pregnant wife. (" _You owe me, brother mine.")_

They were having a quiet night in, most likely one of the last, seeing as her due date was the next day. Sherlock had lit a fire, seeing as it was still rather chilly out, and put on one of Molly's favourite films. She was sat on the sofa, surrounded by pillows to try and make her as comfortable as possible, while she ate a bowl of strawberry ice cream.

After adding another log to the fire he sat down beside her, tucking his arm around her shoulders before taking the spoonful of ice cream she offered him.

"Sherlock … could you pause the movie?"

He did as she asked. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

She handed him her empty bowl. He took it and placed it on the coffee table.

"No, nothing is wrong. I've just been thinking."

"Oh?"

She smoothed her hands across her very-rounded belly. "I'm not sure if I'm going to want to go back to work or not."

He visibly relaxed.

"What did you think I was going to say?" she asked.

"I honestly didn't know, that's what had me so worried."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just … I don't know if I am going to be able to bring myself to leave them," she said, peering down at her belly.

"You can do whatever you like Molly. If you want to stay at home with them, then stay at home. I'll support you no matter what."

She looked at him and smiled. "I had hoped you'd say that." She kissed him, her lips tasting like strawberries.

It was the middle of the night when she woke. Something felt very different. She started to count in her head, breathing as slowly and as quietly as possible, just as Sherlock had taught her. Said Sherlock was fast asleep beside her. She was glad of this, wanting at least a few quiet moments to be able to gather her thoughts and attempt to calm her mind, while she tried to wrap her brain around what was about to happen. When the contractions suddenly began to intensify she reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"Wha-what is it?" he questioned, sitting up.

"It's time," she said to him, her emotions getting the better of her, her eyes filling with tears. "Our babies are on their way!"

He exhaled a shaky breath then leaned forward and kissed her. "Stay right there, I'll gather your things and call for the car." He jumped up from the bed, rushing about to pull on some clothes.

Just as he was about to leave their bedroom she called out to him, "Don't forget to phone your parents!"

"Yes. Don't worry I will," he answered.

When he returned a few minutes later, her contractions were getting worse.

"Ahhh, oh my God, this is so fucking painful!" she cried out.

He slowly helped her to stand, smoothing his hand up and down her back.

"And it's only going to get worse!" she moaned.

"Shhh …," he murmured before he pressed a kiss to the top of her. "You can do this Molly. I know you can."

They very slowly made their way out of the flat and down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was stood in her doorway, watching them with a wide smile upon her face.

"You're going to be fine Molly!" she said encouragingly. "You take care of her Sherlock! Don't you dare leave her side!"

"I don't intend to Mrs. Hudson," he said.

She gave a small cry, holding a handkerchief to her face.

Sherlock helped Molly into the car, settling her against a pillow he had brought with them.

"Oh God," she groaned. "Here comes another one!"

He quickly sat down beside her, taking her hand in his which she squeezed tightly.

"AHHH!"

"Breathe Molly, just breathe!"

They made it to Bart's in record time, all thanks to one of Mycroft's most skilled drivers. As soon as they entered the hospital they were rushed to a birthing room, which had been ready and waiting for them. Marian and Siger arrived just after they did, followed by John and Mary, and Mycroft and Anthea. They were brought to a waiting room, and wait they did. For several hours. And several more hours. A nurse from time to time came to give them updates, but for the most part, they waited. And waited.

Until at long last the nurse returned and announced that the babies had been born. They were healthy, and doing well, as was Molly. The nurse also made certain to note that Sherlock had behaved, staying by Molly's side the entire time, giving her words of encouragement, even while she screamed and cursed at him for putting her in this state. The nurse than further explained that they were giving the  _new_  family a little time to themselves, before allowing the rest of the family to go and see the newborns.

Marian could barely contain herself when she entered the room and saw her two grandchildren for the first time. Even Siger had tears in his eyes as he held the little girl. Mary and John both told Sherlock how proud they were of him, but he ignored them though, far too enthralled by the two new little lives. Mycroft was a bit flummoxed at first, especially when Molly offered for him to hold his nephew. He was a bit stiff for the first few moments, then gradually relaxed, even moreso when he looked over at Anthea who was holding their niece. None of them stayed for very long though, knowing that the new parents were tired, and that there would be plenty of time later to coo and aww over the babies.

Now that that were alone Sherlock was once more sat upon the bed beside a very worn-out, but happy and contented Molly.

"He's going to look just like you," she said softly, lightly tracing the tip of her finger across their sleeping son's features.

Sherlock let out a dismissive sniff. "She has your nose, and your chin," he declared in a muted, but matter-of-fact tone as he stared down at their daughter asleep in his arms.

She chuckled. "I suppose we'll eventually have to come up with a good story of how we fell in love."

"Do parents really do that?" he scoffed.

"Yeah, most of them, I know my parents did. I would always ask my dad to tell me the story of how he and my mum fell in love."

Sherlock grew thoughtful. "Hmmm."

"I suppose…," she paused briefly and looked up at him.

He met her gaze and she smiled when he gave her a tender kiss.

"I suppose …," she continued but paused again, returning her gaze to their son, "that we can tell them that …  _it all started with a facial_ …"

**THE END … ish …**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *commence ugly sobbing*
> 
> I know, I know, you're probably screaming right now: "What?! WHAT?! That's how she ends it?"
> 
> Heh … err… yeah, that's how I'm ending it. It's been a long time coming, I mean … I've been working on this fic since October 2014 … 2014! I can't believe it. And honestly, I had originally plotted it out to be only 17 chapters, not 50! Phew.
> 
> I've really enjoyed writing this fic, I've put a lot of time, effort and tears into it. And I am so soooooo grateful for every single one of my readers. I'm sure I've lost a few along the way due to major gaps between updates, but for those who have stuck with me, thank you, THANK YOU SO MUCH!
> 
> Also … you might have noticed the "ish" … hehe, that's there because I'm planning to continue this story in one-shots. I don't have any fully plotted out, but I do have some ideas rolling around!
> 
> Once again, thank you so much everyone for reading, commenting, and giving kudos. I love you all, SHERLOLLIANS ARE LOVE!
> 
> Now excuse me while I go sit in a corner and drown in feels.


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